a poem by Joseph Hargraves

To Sing to You

A couple of days ago I walked
down South Street and passed
the used bookstore at 17th.
In the window they had a limited
edition Christina Rossetti's Goblin Market.
I kept walking, but wondered if
if was the copy I had given you
9 months ago; but then remembered
how much you had liked the illustrations
and knew that the book was still on
the table in your bedroom, unread.

This made me think of the time we
were talking on the phone
and I asked if I could read you
William Carlos Williams' poem "Asphodel,
That Greeny Flower," and you said
that you were too tired.

You will have forgotten that;
but I know you'll remember
when I told you how awful
in bed you were.

But you didn't know how little
that meant to me.

And if we ever meet
again and you give me the
choice that you would either
listen to me read the poem
or improve your sexual technique,
I would pick the poem
over your fucking in a minute.

But it's too late for that now.

© by Joseph Hargraves
 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #6 ~ November 2009