All Those Things That You Do To Me Poem by Patti Masterman

It's delicious, when I'm here craving you,
but you- you are there- or there;
god only knows where-

And you are absence, growing deeper,
A mystery spade sunk in enigma,
A slowly widening fissure'd earth,
The last word I never got to speak (you could be dead) ,
The last toast I never got to drink (and there is dread..)

But also heady disdain and contempt-
Not real, because you could contain no such thing
Inside your lovely, ascetic volumes of being;
Still- just to pass the time- I imagine you as such-
Imagine desertion, abandonment; no more touch.

A book you never opened again,
A place you never went again,
Love letter crumpled, over the fire
As you trailed your hands slowly
Down the face, of another..

And in this way, you will never grow familiar,
I will always remember that catching-in-the-throat
Pulse jumping fireworks never seen
Way you do all those things, that you do to me..