Domestic Greenleaf

Something by the river spooked me and
I thought about my finances.

Everyday
we have eaten in the kitchens of Rome
since then.

You went shopping in a furniture store.

We have bottles of olive oil and herbs
in our home of domesticity.

The visitors come, their hearts are warmed,
the scented candles burn.

An achy knee needs a bubble bath,
Fuzzy Wuzzy.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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The Chum Date Never Made Her Wedding

Mature with me
Be immature
Hide the salt and pepper shakers
Grown old
Your bones
won’t have the chance again
to do stupid things
Fickle flicks
Preserve self image
The undead are dying
The dead live upon our breaths
The dead babies are being forgiven
in heaven
He has stale bready breath
Hide the salt and pepper shakers
Make rain
Look at the windows on Main Street
Down there she killed herself
ultimately
Mature with me
Be immature
Pull away
Now the funeral procession
heralds the west winded ghosts
and the cafe waits back in childhood
They’re tracing over couches
Your parents while crying
drove the car home
for their tender memories
past the corn fields and shopping strips
the red airplane hanger


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Saidness

You move on me, not like a mirror,
but like daylight.

A dying man’s life was really a day,
one long day of life:
watch the sky open, watch the sky close.
This cloudscape belongs above Montana.

You step in me, not like mud,
but like river:
unlike the cat chase of Mohenjo-Daro,
unlike the Martian meteorites.

The turquoise from the jewelry-makers of God
I take from your eyes
and hold onto the colors of day.
There: life is frozen.

O Antarctica, only you have beaten time,
or so
the foreign-exchange students
from the mermaid-lands
have told me.

I love you, football, tender, tender.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
lovers of the century thumbnail image
Lovers Of The Century (poetry book)

At The Axis Of Night

When the desert was outside
I dragged the dildo outside
and pointing to the South wind
I plaintively said your name,
looking at the edges of Tuscon,
“Raymond . . . Raymond . . . Raymond”.
The wet glaze on the
polyvinyl chloride phallus
became lost and muffled,
muddled with dust.
I coughed and my lungs hurt,
a lone bird chirped in the distance
towards the east,
towards the chain hotels,
the sad glow of logos,
the chain restaurants,
the generic corporate way of life
we all know.
Then,
I walked back inside to watch
Channel 8,
still mumbling to myself,
“Raymond . . . Raymond . . . Raymond”.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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What Women Want The Way

That’s correct. You’re correct.
You’ve been correct all these years.
All these years I’ve lived with you
you’ve been correct in the
parting of your hair.
As you do the things you do
in the kitchen
there’s that smell
and I’ve watched you make your decisions,
look up towards the ceiling,
the flock sprayed sheetrock,
the lost landscapes your eyes look to,
horizons counting secrets
we keep from neighbors
and the gender roles we’ve played together,
there is the door, I’ll get the door.
You ask for more, go and get more.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Commuter Train

I have seen her breasts
pressed in between
blouses and heaven,
viewed her wedding ring
turn magazine pages
in the reflection of the
window,

going south on her
morning train
away from her husband,
suburban home, and
children,

into the city for gray rooms,
stale breath, business reports,
and the remnant of
what was human,

going south on her
morning train.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Married To A Richard I Could No Longer Love

Richard leaves water
scattered
all over the bathroom counter.

Richard combs his hair
in a way I wish he wouldn’t.

When Richard opens cereal
he leaves the top of the box open,
forgets to close it all the way.

One time for my birthday
Richard forgot what I wanted.
Then when I asked him,
“Richard, could you hold me?”,
he had the nerve to say,
“Yeah, just a second, hun.”

Every time Richard uses his fork on
the butter
I hate him deeply for this,

hate him,
hate him,
hate him.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin

A Lesbian

When you leave,
when you’re away,
off sailing on aquamarine seas,
I think of your ruby sculpted
lipstick and
listen to Neko Case
by myself, alone in the human
darkness.

Does this make me a lesbian?

The Sun Prince’s Wife

You left me laying on the bed
with the dildo.

Darkness had fallen
and all the lights were off.

I woke up naked
and alone.

My mouth was dry.

The quiet desert sat outside the
hotel room.

A lone sparrow chirped in the
distance.

Do You Love Me So Much

Do you love me so much
that if I faulted
and tried to murder you
and then
at the last second
I dropped the weapon
and you had it in your hands,

would you spare my life?