there are no more poems here
no more lights
scenes
curtains

no more arabesque poses
spines slick with sweat

there is no more mournful sax
oozing through candlelight haze
bass lines plucked
stepping gingerly across floor boards

there are no more poems
etched on waiting pages
thought up on airplanes
scribbled frantically on yellow legal pads

this womb will nourish no more whimsical prose

there can be no more couplets yearning

no blushing recitations

i wanted nothing more than to write your smile
but every line is a brazen wish
hope for what will not be given

no more arias for my heart to send arpeggio
over the fortress walls

there are no more poems here
for each one is an untamed question
demanding heavy-handedly an answer
you will not give
no more ink spilled
when will I learn?
faith is a fistful of glitter
in a hand that clawed for diamonds
some people can write love poems
i must learn to love the silence