From Jude to Dahlia

A Poem

Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

your ring finger is bare
(open to the air, simply there, oh, what a shame)
as i trace the lines of your palm
in that corner booth you loved so much

and you ask me why i look so sad
(and, darling, i haven’t a clue
when you look at me that way) —

the food is brought,
the steam rises in tufts,
and we’re left to cool our conversation
until we lift our forks in unison to part the waters

(and the waters between us
have grown stagnant, my dear —
can’t you see?)

you tell me you want a man
who can provide the good life for you
(but what the hell do you mean
when i’ve torn my heart out for you?) —

you tell me you want a man
who doesn’t question why you want to go out
(but when have i ever done that,
leaving you to every whim you have, my darling?) —

and finally you whisper
that time is getting on —
too fast, too fast, leaving us behind —
until you…