Rebecca Lu Kiernan

Even today I blush at how I worshipped,
Learned to love being spread out on my knees.
You gave me everything I could not ask for
And nothing on my list of basic needs.
You washed up starving on the Gulf of Mexico
Your unblinking eyes fingering my blouse
In a thatched roof bar where the next James Taylor
Dabbled in the old Fire and Rain.
We left our remote sugar island
For a house of shadows on a dead end street
But my name never got on your mailbox
Your initial never added to my monogram.
I put my unworn mermaid cut gown on
Consignment and went sailing with a once
Platonic friend.
So deep we saw the curve of the earth,
So far we had to consult the stars
To get back home.
Everything old is new again.
We plant belladonna and tiger lilies
In the window box, talk about the
Fragile needs of flowers
And joke about your fancy silver car
Once in our driveway.

Rebecca Lu Kiernan is the editor of the print journal, GECKO. Her fiction has appeared in MS. MAGAZINE, SOUTHERN OCEAN REVIEW, NAKED POETRY, EXQUISITE CORPSE, GARGOYLE, and others, and is upcoming in ASIMOV'S SCIENCE FICTION and NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. Her collection of poetry, "Sex With Trees And Other Things Equally Responsive" was released from 2River Press.