The Arc in Twenty Steps
- He remarks upon
your visage. The word “gorgeous” is used.
- At least twice.
- The dinner, the
glass of wine.
- Dinner II. You
pay; he whinges
on about the drive.
Gently at first,
- the gushing
texts. Requests to chat as if possessed.
- A love
weekend! (He suggests.)
I’ve got a Groupon for the champagne
bath.
- Too soon?
(You protest.) Instead
a wildflower park? Let’s.
- Insects; possibly
contagious plants;
unmarked trails; significant
heat index.
- The dogs. His
ninety-five pound,
pointy-toed, silly-eyed snuffling hounds.
- (Yours is a
feline lap.)
- Tender scene: no,
not all that.
What back alley has your mind passed?
- But ignored all
that night,
after you’d left.
- A poor night’s
sleep,
as if shambling souls
lurch by the sash.
- And you beg for
the next day’s news:
We’re not compatible; I tried, he
says.
- As if it were an
arranged match
and not something hatched
in his head.
- In so many words:
Ouch.
You callous [partially censored
text].
- His arch retort
not worth the ink.
- Rinse.
- …repeat?
- Next.
Rosemarie Koch
If you have any comments on this poem, Rosemarie Koch would
be pleased to hear from you.