Saturday, February 20, 2016

© Guest Starring in My Life This Year—

He said we were no longer parallel...

Well, duh! We’re a-cute angle now.

© Guest Starring in My Life This Year—
You. Your theatrical presence so intense,
It is almost blinding, my Dear.
The disease of love you dispense
Puts me in danger of the contagion,
but I’m dying to be weakened by you.
Please, let us destroy the weapon
They used to destroy my faith in you.

By Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

(painting by Malcolm Liepke)

Friday, February 19, 2016

© You Are My Favorite Self-Indulgence

Long distance relationships never work, the colloquial wisdom goes.

Not true, according to a small but growing number of social science studies. Long-distance relationships are, in many ways, stronger than relationships between couples who live together or close by, shows a new study published today in the Journal of Communication.

The edges of our distant love are softened in
the streaks of the heated blur that disguises
the passion demanded by our naked bodies.

You have turned me into a kissing masochist and
I still find it amazing you can make me dance
from miles away and change my world with your lips.

Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

(painting: RENE  MAGRITTE, Love from a Distance)

Thursday, February 18, 2016

© I Had That Dream Again, You Know The One

I bombed him with wet scat. 

But, only after My eyelids fell as though they were weighted before my head hit the pillows. I was that sleepy.

I wanted to dream that special dream again. You know the one...the one about the two of us in the glass shower and the drain gets plugged and the shower water is up to our thighs before we stop...

Well, you know. Instead, I was flying again and there he was, below me, looking up and laughing because I was the oddball who was flying. I remember you said dreams of flying have to do with sex. I checked that out and it was Freud’s belief flying dreams represented sexual release. And here I always thought these dreams indicated that nothing could hold me down (except you, my love) or keep me from reaching my goals or that I was feeling in control of my life and emotions. But, there it was —sexual release.

When we’re alone with the light of the moon surrounding us,
you look at me with that look that tells me you think I’m special,
your head leans closer so that our lips are just a breath apart
and all I want to do is close that one inch of space between us.
That’s when I feel those invisible strings of love tugging at my heart.
There was that one time I playfully pushed you away.
We laughed about it at the time and went to sleep.
But, the regret I held grew. And grew.
Some nights, when I’m lying wide awake at three in the morning,
I wonder why I pushed you. Was it just a joke to you? I wonder because
I’m still lying here wondering.

I still wonder, too, How do I diminish the distance between us?

Sometimes I wish I could go back in time before anyone broke your heart. It will never happen, but the other night while I was eating and reading and thinking, I remembered something Shane Koyczan said...maybe in one of his Slam Poetry contests: when your heart is broken, make art from the pieces.

You know, I more than like you; so, I’ll end this and send you All My Love.

© I Had That Dream Again, You Know The One
from Letters I Never Sent To You
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reservedm

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

©Rules of The Game for A Windup Girl in A Dystopian World

Each of us is our own novel 
until our very last page, no one...
not even us...
knows how our novel will end, 
otherwise, who'd want to read it

It seems everything has fallen into place;
not quite what I had in mind,
but, nonetheless, I suppose it’s mine.

And how disgraced I might be
if I went where I pleased and
toppled all that has fallen on me—
only to suffocate underneath.

For those battered and broken
over time, I remain a mystery,
someone who lives alone with
nothing vying to grip my mind.

Endless soiled linens falling—
the devil threw us into the abyss,
the height dependent on the age of
the stains on our gowns.

I look up, passed my rising breath,
to the place where I might forget
my guilty naiveté and dry my
flooded eyes with tears of the lost.

I am Alice out of Wonderland and
there are rules of the game for a
windup girl in a dystopian world.

Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved