Sunday, January 25, 2009

Sunday-3pm

Still have a mild sore throat. Don't feel like chatting much, so thought I'd let you read a poem I wrote as a freshman in college back in 1999. I didn't go to college until I was 48 years old and twice divorced--to put the poem a little in context--hehe! :)

The Corner Cubby

She was curled in his lap like a kitten
He stroked her blonde curls with one hand
As she nestled upon his thin chest
With the other he searched inside her blouse
Their eyes were closed
More from fear than passion
She lifted her rosy face
Slowly licked her lips
And cracked her eyes to kiss him

That is when she saw me
Ambushed by new love
Attempting to retreat quietly
After striding around the library stack
And being suddenly transformed
Into an intimate transgressor
An unexpected voyeur

She bolted upright with hair askew
Snatched her blouse together
Smacking him alongside the head
With her indignant elbow
Snapping his head back
He nearly tumbled the chair
But fumbled his way upright
And gallantly stood to block my view
From her buttoning fingers

I cast my eyes upon the floor
And scuttled off
Relieved to find an empty table
Three racks down
Unloading my backpack
Echoes of haste traveled
Along the wall
Rustling
Zippers
Panicked whispers
They vanished
Before I had even caught my breath

I became accustomed
To the sounds
Of tender budding
Afternoon rendezvous
Three days a week
After my Spanish class
And before English 101
I sat three racks down
My table spread with books
Papers and class notes
Straining to concentrate
I learned to filter out
The sweet murmurings
Encouraging giggles
Whispered conversation
Soft low moaning
And the sharp snapping creak
Of the wooden chair
As she shifted in his lap
Followed by the flurry of departure
I’d smile to glimpse them
Cross my sight
Framed in bookracks
Hand in hand

Now spring is hinting its arrival
Final papers and exams
Have become an undertow
I trudge to my table
Three racks down
Spread out my books
Papers and class notes
And pause to listen

So quiet
They’ve been missing
For over a week now
Poised over my studies
Fists bracing my chin
I wonder what happened
To the hope and promises
To the blinding faith
Of new love

As I pick up my pen
And open my book
I feel them like an
Empty pocket

2 comments:

  1. Rita, you have so many talents and well done to you for going to college at 48. I loved your poem ~ :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. I didn't quite finish. :( My health was declining and I couldn't physically finish and ended up on disability--but it was such a wonderful experience on so many levels for me! I have always loved learning. I never thought of myself as an author until I was in college. I've had a few things published in literary magazines, belive it or not. I'll post what little I have--one by one--on the blog. Hope you will like them. :)

    ReplyDelete

I appreciate your visits and comments.
Have a really great day! :) :)