A meal is spread out over time
©2007 Tom Ewing
A meal is spread out over time,
Long times between and beyond
Weeks and many phases of the moon
and neither of us
Is intimate for sure,
Each path tastes, in its own, the scent of
Both savory and sweet, un-tempered and sublime
She said to me,
“I am scared, repulsed, attracted, and intrigued all at the same time”
As though they were courses on our table
Each one compared each one combined
for our lives adjournment
Scared:
she said to me:
I am nothing,
and dead
and wicked
and desolate
empty
silent
my eyes are silent
my lips see nothing
ears taste the wind
touch is deafening
I am sad
and scared of you,
and me.
Driving in the moonless black
faster than fearing comfort
painfully twisting
wicked coastal road
no escape or sight to climb,
precipice lane—“can’t see anything”
big truck with horrible lights almost
touching her,
pushing from behind
now deer crossing next 12 miles
tires screeching
for the dark vista,
and swirling cliffs going down
no sadness or vision
bad beauty
or time.
Repulsed:
He hurts me with his words, and the
Lousy weight of his damned
as He calls them, “feelings”
He calls them “truth” but if that’s truth, I don’t want to hear his truth.
(they’re lies, all of them—
the ones that say I'm all light,
and all right
and giving the flow
to the water of being).
who gives him the damned right to
stand on my portal,
my grave,
and preach of love?
He doesn't know me.
(I don’t know me.)
Attracted:
He causes my heart to skip beats
Painful breast
Like a cheating of our former death
In his hands.
Touching him as more than
Just one more
Of When I can’t say no.
I can, and say no to him,
but not sure I want to,
But feel I must.
Intrigued:
She says silently to herself.
The yielding finds me in the decisive place The above and below ahead of my time
Like ancient lives that unfolds By the pulled trigger of a scent
Or With the brightest stars A twinkle Or pattern
of what I think to knows is Right.
Or dense clouds offering no cleansing rain Where strength is central to my success
Feeling strong and weak—a strength
Of the hiding small animal.
Yet, there must be a kernel of
Truth to what he says,
A hope
And caring for me
I can't want, but never have known.
A book never opened, unsowed, a heavy
Novel he faithfully describes
In ways I don’t realize
Nor understand,
But want to hear.
Sometimes I secretly want to be held.
But, I’m afraid.
Question:
She said to me,
What would you have me do? I don't know what to say.
He says out loud,
your honesty only extends to your level of silence
in a place most quiet where gurgles of healing waters
caresses your head and hands, giving us quiet
to release our personal attractions in our own fears, and, I say,
Share yourself completely with me,
and I’ll share myself completely with you,
If only for a time.
don’t say no, just yet. there is still time.
Taking her hand in mine
Both cool and wet to the touch
Trembling,
Switch it off now,
Eyes casting down quickly,
As though following a spill
Of her heat.
[click to view introduction]