It Can't Happen

Not now not ever

not at your house, your living room,

your couch, not in the late afternoon

not while my husband's waiting

my daughter's on hold

not at my house not in the hot tub

not with wine coke or dope

not with Mexican, Colombian, or hydrotropic, not

now. 

Not in my office

on my desk

not in the meadow under stars

not with whiskey or Ecstasy

not in this lifetime now now.

Not unless you fall on your knees

not unless you cry, beg, bleed

not unless our lips brush 

not unless your caress blots out memory

not unless you're bigger than your myth

not unless you've grown braver

not unless your hair's still curly

not unless you write a poem for me

and slam it hard enough to kill reverie

not unless you call me

write to me

not now not ever not unless.

         (from "Circe, After Hours," BkMk Press, 2005)

This poem will be included in "Packing Light: New and Selected Poems," Black Widow Press, 2009.