Maybe this is exactly what I deserve
for enrolling in that damn workshop
at the neighborhood community center,
my comeuppance for getting buzzed on
the complimentary saki and then flirting with
the raven-haired minx seated next to me
when I should have been focused
on the class assignment:
how to position the limp stems and
erect bamboo stalks convincingly
to communicate remorse after
a long bout with self-indulgence.
Now here she is, cluttering my
once-comfortable home with conflict,
agitating the very air with argument.
And in the kitchen trash bag:
the discarded leftovers from yesterday's meal
called "peace-of-mind."
Battle-weary, we continue on
like two souls striving for penance,
paying for their costly sins in purgatory.
I rearrange a vase of neglected tulip -
their blond heads hanging low, the water
so cloudy it could be sour milk.
Copyright 2007 by the Tipton Poetry Journal.
All rights remain the exclusive property of the individual poet and may not be used without their permission.