Late November Pantoum 11.25.08

(why did I shop for new clothes: jeans, socks, purses, blouses - today at a store that is so going out of business that movers were extricating the store's furniture from their anchors as I shopped, and no bathroom to use? $120 for a garbage bag full of goodies, how odd that without trying them on I know they are the perfect fit, that the store will be vacant next week. And I'll wear them somewhere new, not in the empty place, the way I feel so expansive on a college campus that ghosts me - a shoulder touch and slip-sideways fault walk -the state of Coatlicue, in-between worlds. And yes, the fever, the warm face, as I walk the old halls, shop in the ghost store for the best deals, it's OK to buy the next size up, that way I can wear baggy jeans and not feel bad that I'm not a size 8-10 anymore. Freedom to gain a few pounds, wish tears would warm my cheeks and fill the empty spaces in between lovers who are not here tonight, late November and Thanks"stealing" soon and I am so alone, working too damn hard again, will the desert book intros and bios EVER be done, will the bibliography ever pass the course, will the permissions ever be all in hand?)

Late November Pantoum

I thought our love was thunderstorm, rain hitting the rake

Naked by the pool, sunrise, July, daring the lightning

I was devoted to me and you were devoted to you

The tall cat coffee mug I borrowed from your mom's house

Naked by the pool, sunrise, July, daring the lightning

Bisecting Mojave in May, the cup's handle snapped in September

The tall cat coffee mug I borrowed from your mom's house

I'm walking to my morning poetry class, students waiting

Bisecting Mojave in May, the cup's handle snapped in September

Reading the beat poets today, the boil of Ginsberg's Howl

I'm walking to my morning poetry class, students waiting

I've overheated the cup today, November, I burn my hand

Reading the beat poets today, the boil of Ginsberg's Howl

Love near a mountain park at night, hands on breasts

I've overheated the cup today, November, I burn my hand

Parked in my car, leaning across console, your fingers are cold

Love at the Box Springs Mountains, dark, hands on breasts

Bears in a forest, tall as people, pounding berries from the trees

Parked in my car, leaning across console, your fingers are cold

The desert, my poetry students, my dogs, wonder where I am

Bears in a forest, tall as people, pounding berries from the trees

We held each other and the hot rain ran down our long souls

The desert, my poetry students, my dogs, wonder where I am

America is another poem we’ll study today, where are you?

We held each other and the hot rain ran down our long souls

Summer in the desert compressed us together into one bone

America is another poem we’ll study today, where are you?

I’m obliged to tell my students how to explicate a poem

Summer in the desert and the hot rain ran down our long souls

You initiate sex with me, and then you go off to sleep alone

I’m obliged to tell my students how to explicate a poem

And the bears are satiated now, nosing into winter holes

You initiate sex with me, and then you go off to sleep alone

I brew a fresh pot of coffee, the dog’s back wounds nearly gone

And the bears are satiated now, nosing towards winter holes

I loved you because you pulled into a violent rainstorm

I brew a fresh pot of coffee, my dog’s back wounds nearly gone

and wrapped me in your arms and your heart was beating warm

I loved you because you pulled me into a violent rainstorm

broken cup, silent desert, I rake my voice across another poem

Ruth Nolan copyright (c) 2008