farewell, orpheus (later!)
       

this moony day / here you are
camel-lashed on the driveway
light on the length of your arm
I trace your shadow with my shoe

o! orpheus, can I call your name
till you're sick of me / a nude in
a painting you can't remember
made from tiny flowers, ho hum

a few steps over / & our dust
would have glowed / maybe
there's a fifty percent chance
of you ignoring me or stumbling

I watch your walking shoulder
till the high note's breathless—
all I do is bitch & what I mean is
I want to be wanted

running like a plover / my mouth
rambles leaving no room for rest
& you mean no harm but some
days looking back outweighs it all

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Copyright © 2022 Emily Murman All rights reserved
from Poetry South
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission