Sunday Poem

We’re Together Now

I longed for five years, and then
I got her, my tailfeathers more resplendent
then the other guy’s. Or I have bigger antlers.
So she’s mine. I can circle her
for hours, and she won’t chase me away.
We’ll make a home somewhere
with detritus from both our lairs, I love
the intimacy we share, the body sounds,
though sometimes sort of miss the longing,
which was always there, a scar.

It was like the Red Sox fans
felt the eighty-six years their team
didn’t win the World Series. Then they did,
and what kept those fans on edge
for decades was gone. Sure, winning
was great. But so was all that hope,
so close you could almost touch
the skittish thing, if only, if only.
When if only came true, they had
to learn to live without it.
………………………..It was not the same
after winning. I was better;
it was just not the same.

Michael Chrisman
Little Stories
Dyslexia Books, NY, NY;
Antigua Guatemala, 2013