The Men Of Her Life Poem by RIC BASTASA

a hundred or some
men of her life
coming and getting
out of her mind

names of men
yet not one of their lips
and tongues and hands
or a finger
has taken hold
of her single nipple

the evenings
are figments of her
imagination
the bed has not
sounded
the squeaks
the moans
never, the legs
still fathoms apart

bodies of men
piled like boats
one after the other
with their names
on each, burning
falling, ashes

the sea clear
and silent
like patience
merely staring

not a word
shall insult