Patience

Patience is in my clothes

She said to me at the evening's end

But never in my heart

Never in my arms or thighs & so

As I look at you she said

I wonder how I've spent even

One night with you let alone

So many years & I suppose

She said that loathing is

Too strong a word since what

I feel now is so much closer

To contempt & pity both

That it's become wearying even

To watch you pour the wine

& so depressing to feel

The draft of the night as you

Open a window onto the starlight

You believe she said will make me

Love you as you once believed I loved you

Though of course she said that's

Simply what I said

Copyright World Poetry, Incorporated Mar/Apr 1999
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