It’s a hard-wired
ephemeral life
I lead.
Half of me yearning.
Half of me mourning.
Desire
for a quick death,
overcome by the
monotonous grind;
clandestine,
dragging
it’s heels inching
forever forward
toward an unremarkable
destination.
Except for
that constant ache.
A low throb
moan between my
legs,
rising up & into
my belly, disturbing
the dying butterflies
there.
Oh to be blindfolded!
Black out spread eagled,
all solidified reminders
teased to know pleasure
for pleasures sake.
Played
like an object
of your imagination
& devoured
like a ripe peach.
I’m too old
for this shit!
Wanting
to just be loved.
No out-back
salt lakes to be found.
Slip streams
giving way
to an avalanche
in a classical black
& white silent movie.
It’s all too much
to take in,
the depravity
of age & of consent.
Too young, yet
too old to let
things slide.
Still, the tears come,
let loose
to chide & deride
my feminine critique;
that contemptible self
loathing that likes
to sink her
teeth in.
Heart
broken,
wanting for nothing
but life’s
simple pleasures
to sweep her
off her feet —
lead her into
an ecstasy of wanton
abandonment
for just one moment,
to still the voices
& discard reality.
© Copyright 2018, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved
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