Poetry:
d.j.c. / unrequited

Erica Woiwode
MA Student in Literature and Writing Studies Program
California State University, San Marcos
E-mail: emwoiwode@aol.com

d.j.c.

Wednesday night in the
midst of a mental
holocaust --
simplicity formed of
exhaustion --
the earth doesn't seem
to be affected much
by the grinding of
slate against prosthetic
saviors and happy
demons running rampant
in the closets of
the average working-class
woman --
what was it that you said about
Nicaraguan cheap labor
and the frailty of the
human heart?

it's just a question of eliminating obstacles...

unrequited

between the whisper
of friendly salutations
and the rush of blood
to the head,
do you know
do you know
  the
   longing
to place your
poems so
ceremoniously
in a circle
around my bed,
and fall asleep
in the middle?
dreaming of
inconsistencies
and illicit
betrayals, the
race to catch
up with what
is far too late
never ending --

the song that
would be my
declaration to
you pulses in
my bloodlines,
as if i could
touch your face
and you would
know all meaning
found in that
purest silence --

as if i could --

in the middle of
the night, i
cradle the image
of you in my
living room,
book in your
hands, your eyes
shifting over
to me every
few lines,
asking questions
telling secrets
without words
as i pretend
not to notice,
my heart telling
you the whole
time just how
    lovely
        you
            are.

Academic Exchange Extra invites reader responses to any writings in this issue--especially articles advancing the scholarly debate of issues raised.

Page Viewed:   / Created: 24 October 2003 / Updated: --