After the storm a few posies colorful
as Nembutal tablets on a dresser.
A mynah and raven all skin and bone
drink without looking at me;
the humid day unfolds.
I open your well-creased letter;
bitter words you wrote, the care
taken to injure me.
I imagine your satisfaction
burning my picture, your mouth
contorted like a woman thrusting
in pleasure.
Your shoulders bare as new coins
and shimmering with beaded sweat.
Bernard Henrie
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/visiting-the-past-stealing-nothing/
