Solitude

I am alone.

But I ain’t really lonely.

My house is full of beating hearts,

While my bed lies empty of any type of lover.

I cooked many meals for those in my house,

Smiling as they left with their bellies full,

With stomachs tight and warm.

With the dark of Maui’s hook, guiding many to sleep,

I tuck tiny people into tiny clean beds,

Whispering goodnight chants,

Singing goodnight spells.

ON Chronos’ day,

I drink dry, sweet spirits,

Observing as couples all but

Copulate in dusty corners.

To try and feel something,

I kiss a stranger under his lips,

His breath sour with the fragrance of

flat beer.

His mouth was sloppy,

Slimy, too much like

Pickled frogs, and slippery elms.

Eros’ arrow misses my wants and needs,

So I walk on home in the dark.

At my house, I am greeted by four creatures,

Their tails rapid little flags

Of joy.

All whimpering and needy

As ruly dogs are.

No man, no woman, no spouse or companion

To say, “Welcome home,”

By the egg-white light of the spinster moon.