This is not a resolution.
So I’m going to try this and we’ll see how it works. I’m committing myself to post one new poem ever week for the next year (a few hours with a calculator tells me this should be about 52 poems). Hopefully, this will be made easier by the fact that I’m taking Advanced Poetry Writing this Spring meaning I will make it a month or maybe two before I fizzle out and forget about this idea all together.
To kick things off in the most P.J. of fashions…I’M CHEATING! This is actually a poem I wrote about a month back, but it is my NEWEST poem so I think that counts…it’s overly sentimental, emo, and whiny, and it might border on TMI…please enjoy…
Contraceptive
I have 3 good condoms left
From the box we bought together
Sitting on my nightstand
Awaiting your fingers, your sex, and your soft scream
I have 3 good condoms left
From the box we bought together
Still sheathed in white plastic
Still carrying the optimism I have lost
I have 3 good condoms left
From the box we bought together
With knowing smiles and looks
Today we have grown so so so ignorant of
I have 3 good condoms left
From the box we bought together
There’s a fourth but it’s spoiled
By that last week of longing from my back pocket
I have 3 good condoms left
From the box we bought together
3 broken promises
Or hopes or dreams never spoken but clearly felt
I have 3 good condoms left
From the box we bought together
You picked the style yourself
With spermicide to ease your mind as I pleased me
I have 3 good condoms left
From the box we bought together
They live a long shelf life
Shorter than you and I, but much longer than us.
