– the visitor, the guest, has clean sheets to lie on

I don’t exist in this house.
Not in the kitchen
Definitely not in the bedroom
Where the television resides.
Not in any room
Boxes hide anything I own
Anything I gave is lost or obscured
Discarded
Shunted to one side
Yet
thanks is called for
because they have not properly been discarded.
And for that,
I am grateful,
resentful.

The plants in the garden
secondary to the sculptures
withered in the winter snow
anyway.
Few seeds planted,
the perennials
already established
before I came,
continue to thrive
once I go,
designs drawn up
plans proceed
extensions fortify.
When I return,
I tread lightly.
Belonging is debatable.
Not belonging is convenient.

When one doesn’t exist,
How do two, co-exist?
Good will and good hearts?
Such sinew and thought
need to be ladled in equal measure
to override lack
of presence
of interest.
Can we survive on
perhaps?
On being secondary?
The secondary secondary party to
the primary?
And surely he feels he is secondary to you
perhaps
but with history and habit and acquisition
perhaps not.
with an addiction to everything but
the manifestation of
corporeal you
sanguine you
perhaps.

Take it or leave it.
Separate paths with
occasional connections
may be the way
to maintain identity despite, not
because of
Separate paths with
occasional connections
may be the way.
a love
like a trouser pocket sewn
not unpicked
to maintain shape
not fulfillment.

the heart beats oftly (c) 2011
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