Alone Again

Alone again,
naturally, as the Beatles sing,
but is it natural to be alone?
George’s guitar plucks along
dolefully and naked in a single line, alone.

I miss him,
never did while he was alive
but he was the quiet one,
over there on the left, alone
while the others sang together.

Maybe he needed another line
to keep going,
to get on their plane.
A plane of his own, perhaps;
he was different.

I know what it is like
to be alone, so alone
that it almost seems natural.
In a crowd, I’m missed,
missed by them, by him,
always missed.

I never miss him
my man who is not mine (not George),
he’s ever-present
always keeping me company
in my dreams.

For that is where I wait for him (arms open),
he comes when I call,
when I need him
he comes when I want him.
I always do.

The night,
that’s when he is nearest,
I’m alone again while the sun is up
It’s not natural, I plead,
it can’t be.

Full Frontal

in one of those moods, I can’t help it,
driving to distraction down a cul-de-sac
thinking too much, too focused

on him, holding me,
his warmth, his scent,
the sound of his breathing

mine quickens

in bed I lie awake
he is my fantasy
was my reality long ago

I’m warm, so is he
at home in his bed
heart in mine


I can hear it
speeding along with mine

his touch, remembered
there between my breasts
softly stroking, feels my throb

in the liquid darkness
a moan, a question
yes, my answer

always yes

it’s been so long
always yes, forever
I part

he fuels my storm
my swell
an earthquake

his gift accepted
the past
a present cherished


I’m a damp pool
my bed soaked
must wash the sheets tomorrow

I am weak
push relentlessly
he is constant

I wish

the glint of his eyes
just out of reach
he knows

I’m in one of those moods again,
and my desire consumes me
come to me in my dreams,

my love