MUSING ON AN OLDER LOVER.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A YOUNG FRENCH WOMAN THINKS OF HER OLDER LOVER.

Submitted: May 30, 2010

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Submitted: May 30, 2010

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Not so, Monsieur Bison,
Sylvie says to herself,
Watching the smoke from

Her cigarette rise ceiling
Ward, sometimes managing
Smoke rings as her father did.

Not so that a woman needs
A man all of the time, absence
Is as good as a rest, Mother

Use to say, when Father was
Away on his travels. The smoke
Lingers. The rings evaporate.

Just because Monsieur cannot
Do without the sex, he thinks
All must be so; all must be

Thinking and wanting the sex
Just as he. She lays her head
Back on the pillow; the dirty

Blinds muffle the sounds from
The street below. She muses
On the fading paint on the walls;

The off-white ceiling; the spider
Webs in the four corners. She
Inhales deeply, feels the smoke

Hit the back of the throat, fill
Her lungs. She exhales, watches
The smoke rise, thinks of Monsieur

Bison’s lovemaking, the balding
Head, the smell of his sweat, the
Rising and falling of his large

Behind, the grunts, the moans,
The falling spittle from his lips.
Mother would not be impressed.

Nine months of carrying you and
Years of worry for this? She’d say,
For you to lie in bed with as such

As him? She imagines her mother’s
Words, watching daylight from the
Window fade and the room grow dim.


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