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SHOUT OUT

Uneasy, when it came to sex,
You made me feel

I was doing you wrong.
Your body stiffened, 
And, I remember, once you said, 
“Too incredibly intimate!”

Later I watched in movies,
Men drop to the knees,
It seemed nothing special,
No more than regular business,
Hollywood presents its usual fare. 

In a recent film with a Bedouin setting,
North Africa, camels on route,
Over windy hills of sand, oasis to oasis,
Hardly a trend setter,
The lead takes his captive,
Calls her wife number three, and there
Within the walls of his village home, 
He keels. While camera spies, 
He takes love by mouth.

Since I last had knelt before you,
Months have passed.
I wish I might kneel now,
Just as does the sheik in the movie!

But you, you are gone. 
And with you, too, went 
Health, and work, and sleep, 
They have fled irrevocably! 

I wake in the middle of shouts.
                                       
I picture you and our last night at dinner.
I see you there sitting before the table,
And in a fleeting glimpse I recall your delight, 
How you savor and chew upon your meal.

I rise up from my bed and step toward my desk.
I mean to write, 
But swoon instead.
Down my back and below my collar,
My night shirt is wet of perspiration.

Were I not lost, driven to distraction, 
If only once more could I clear the mind
And assume a proper bearing,
Where did I ever hear that love is a gentle thing?

Can’t figure what’s up with me;
I feel a faint. My stomach is turning.

'Fetch a chair!' I say aloud, though I am home alone.

'Never mind.  I’m fine.  I’m okay.' 
(As if somebody here bothers to listen.)

‘The weather has been unusually hot,
‘Especially these first two weeks of August;
‘Actually the same was true for all of July and June.
‘Yeah, that’s the ticket.
‘It’s just this summer's terrible heat!'