After the Lull

How do I know she means me ill?
She enters always once night falls.
Nothing is there she cannot fill
of me. I slake my lust and thrill
in the doing, empty then full
each night another banshee wails.

Bobby dropped out of school,
got a job washing dishes while
he wrote about the way men kill
short of murder, acting the fool
to talk himself through his own wiles,
taking to bed one more good girl.

floycealexander worked his tool
like magic for the good of all
ladies who thought he was a child
and needed a mama to feel
his need to be warm where he’s cold,
occupied with lovers, not scolds.

I have been lying here for hours
believing my fictions: towers
that fall and I’m always below
watching, as though nothing were real,
only a conspiracy style
of plummeting to what we know.

(11 December 2012)

copyright 2012 by Floyce Alexander