ARMCHAIR
He sat
there in his powder-blue armchair and he waited for the phone to ring
And
then it did.
It was
her. She called like she said she would. 11 P.M.
He
hadn’t heard her voice in months
And
when she spoke to him now, she sounded different.
All the
syrup was gone. The affection also gone. Like she turned it off.
He
talked in the calm measured tones he had practiced
And
realized he sounded like a crazy man who was trying not to sound crazy
But he
couldn’t help it.
He was
laser focused on getting the truth.
In
those months he went from loving her to hating her
To just
wanting to know everything that was hidden from him.
She was
defensive and she was evasive.
She was
clearly telling him only what she thought he already found out
When he
did all that post-breakup internet detective work.
He
began to feel sorry for her
While
still hating her and wishing her unhappiness henceforth.
Then
her voice became how he remembered it and she started to be honest.
The
truth, as she told it, was jarring
Even
though it was about what he expected.
The
syrup and affection were poured back into her voice as if she had turned a knob
And as
she spoke of infidelity and apology he felt a stirring,
Realizing
he still loved her.
He
thought to himself about how he surely always would and how stupid that was.
When
they finished their conversation and wished each other well
He put
the phone down and went to check on his kids who were sleeping in their
bedroom.
She had
gotten along so well with his kids
And
they were genuinely happy their daddy found someone to love.
He got
a bottle of soda from the refrigerator, went back to his powder-blue armchair
And tried to think about anything other than her but he couldn’t do it.
HEROES AND VILLAINS
I like
when the villain becomes a hero
but
when that happens
it
means a new villain must emerge,
otherwise
the hero can’t exist.
Not
many enjoy the role of villain –
at
least not those who are aware
that is
their role.
As I
said,
villains
must exist
if we
want our heroes.
I think
often of Judas Iscariot
and his
role in the collective conscious
through
the centuries,
that
his motives were nothing but greed.
I’ve
struggled with the fact he betrayed Jesus
for a
small sum of money
then
decided to kill himself in shame and grief –
all
this after abandoning his previous life
to
follow the man.
It
doesn’t make sense.
Is it
possible Judas did what he did
in
order to fulfil the prophecy?
Could
his grief have been not about his conscience
but in
carrying out the act
he knew
someone had to carry out?
A hero
needs a villain,
sometimes
many of them.
He
stepped up?
Could
that be it?
I’ve
turned Judas from a villain to a hero in my mind
but, as
I’ve told you,
I love
when that happens,
so
you must make your own conclusion.
HE’S YOUR LOVER NOW
He’s
your lover now
But he
doesn’t love you.
I was
your lover
And I
loved you then
But I’m
not your lover now
And I
don’t love you now,
I can’t
love you now.
I don’t
know what will happen
When
you realize he doesn’t love you
And
that I really did love you then
But now
to love you would be impossible
For me
to do.
I
believe when this realization hits you
Things
will move along
Just as
they did
Before
you knew
Your
lover doesn’t love you
And the
lover who loved you
Doesn’t
love you anymore
And
can’t ever love you again.
You’ll
slide into his bed
Itchy
and unsatisfied
And
you’ll think about it for a while
And then things will remain as they are.
THAT SAD AND BROKEN-HEARTED GIRL
That sad and broken-hearted girl stood in the corner
With her back to the wall
Looking down at her shoes
And at her heart that had fallen to pieces
And was scattered like confetti all around her.
That silly good-hearted boy actually faced the wall,
Afraid to even look around, his heart blackened
By the unmerciful years and by those he had
Encountered in those years. He felt something
In the cold of that room
And he turned around and looked beyond
The faces of those that had castigated him
And those that did not know him
And the broken-hearted girl looked up
And beyond the ones that had used her
And lied to her and disappointed her.
The eyes of that sad and broken-hearted girl
And the eyes of that silly good-hearted boy met
Across the light and the dark and those superfluous
faces
In-between and they came toward each other
And their hands met and they spoke
And they left the dance floor together,
Her wishing with her eyes shut tight
And him singing some song from before they were born.
They were both happy and more than satisfied with this
New arrangement and as the good-hearted boy fumbled
In his pocket for his car keys and the broken-hearted
girl
Waited on the other side of the car
They both wondered why it had taken so long
To stop feeling so sad and stop feeling
So silly, respectively.
Then they got in the car
And were gone.
WAITING FOR LI CH’ING-CHAO
Lying
in bed listening to The Ronettes and The Shirelles,
Waiting
for Li Ch’ing-Chao with my eyes closed.
Naked
and dreaming about her in a paper boat
Solemnly
cutting through the water of a stilled river
And
moving toward me
Who
waits for her on the riverbank.
She
will lead me by the hand to her small courtyard
Where
we will watch the moon and the shadows cast
By the
moon upon the leaves that dance on her lonely plum tree.
Her
husband has died and you are gone from me
And we
think about that before we go to her bedchamber
Where
we kiss and write a dozen poems together
Until
we fall asleep with her windows all open before us, our bodies pleasant,
A
slight breeze blowing out the candles of last night, giving the sun a chance
To
sneak his light inside.
The
rain waits to visit on another day,
A day
not so bright
When
her hairpins are not in my pocket
And her
hair not spilled in a wild arrangement
All
around my unburdened shoulder and beating chest
In her
room where the candles are out
And we
doze.
John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals since 2009. His first poetry collection from Cajun Mutt Press is now available at
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C6W2YZDP .
fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.
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