Mimi-Mona Poetry: I Knew That

                                            ©I Knew That

                               Mimi Wolske

                                         October 2014

By winter, will she have forgotten my hair is white now?

I forgot her birthday

                                    Again.

Late is okay she said.

Funny how guilt works like a roadmap

Where all the cities are sleep...or less.

And the car I was driving caught on fire

I'd like to say;

But that'd be dramatic,

                                    That'd be hyperbole.

Am I not too old for that? I'm too old for some things.

I have become an origami version of myself...

Still mobile but a lot stiffer in the joints.

Loneliness cannot be cured by recognizing it;

I know that.

In a vague sense, I also know

I'm totally open to that being false.

Hey, if you don't want to die in a metaphor,

You can't live in a metaphor.

Why is it the moon refuses to take my midnight calls?

What? You expected a reward for not softening

In the arms of women you do not care about?

It's answering machine says on Monday.

                                    Tuesday: You get nothing for nothing.

By Wednesday you're ready to throw your phones

Off the top of Mount Columbia,

                                    And pray for ice,

But, with her, this could be the sort of life

Where things get smoothed over,

And you know that.

Dammit! I knew that, too.

I knew that like I know how to pant and gasp

In the middle of the morning

With the winter sun freezing my skin like caught salmon.

And so I start again.

A big part of my heart belongs to her, in Arizona,

                                    And it's like I am made of lungs

Hyperventilating to share the same air

And to meditate on her.

Mimi-Mona Poetry: Afternoon Delight

©Afternoon Delight

Mimi Wolske

October 2014

There's a war

inside me

and I don't know whether I'm winning or losing

Your love is

a virus

drawn to me like a lodestone —  I am infected

(painting by jessica watts)

Mimi-Mona Poetry: Reflections

©Reflections

Mimi Wolske

Mimi Wolske - Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

Reflected in each dew drop,

the beauty of your smile.

I quench my thirst with each

and drink in your kisses.

I catch your lips with mine in

the unbroken water of the puddle;

our lovers' kiss is with lips not wet

yet soaked with desperation...

reflected nowhere, only felt.

Mimi-Mona Romantic Poetry: He Said, I'm Still Falling

©He Said, I'm Still Falling

Mimi Wolske

Mimi Wolske - Mona Arizona™

October 2014

All Rights Reserved

Still F

A

LL

I

N

G

breathless

and on fire

inside —again

Floating A

R

O

U

N

D

you, I

see your tear

ducts are dry

It's possible I'm fading.

You know, I could hear

myself growing colder,

broken in two by you.

I'm less here

then you are there;

sent to the abyss

by your unspoken love

Yes, I'm F

A

LL

I

N

G

breathless

and on fire

inside —again

Maybe it's just another

light I see that spins

colors around the room;

a blue light's in your eyes.

your dress hangs 

by my window —

and my world is

under it with love.

I'm F

A

LL

I

N

G

breathless

and on fire

inside —again

There's a star outside

that window and I think

I see it fall-ing

A

W

A

Y

I

think

it's

sending

my message

of love to you;

your smile's crashing

into my dreams —

crashing me...

five

four

three

two...

it's crashing into my life

Still F

A

LL

I

N

G

breathless

and on fire

inside —again

Still F

A 

LL 

I 

N 

G 

breathless 

and on fire 

inside —again

 

Mimi-Mona Poetry: Sunday's Murder of Crows

©Sunday's Murder of Crows

Mimi Wolske

Mimi Wolske - Mona Arizona™

October 2014

All Rights Reserved

Sometimes, more often and not,  

I wake wondering Am I a vampire?  

Metallic taste--more than one spot--

covers my teeth; they require 

a sweeping tongue, long on spittle,

short on the blood it can taste.

Teeth clenched, they're almost brittle.

It's what I do at night, lay in waste

and nightmares of you alone,

in Mexico without me,

A murder of crows after your bone

and you cry for me as them you flee.