Member Poem

Hope’s dog named Desi, a mutt with floppy ears,
rolls over for a belly rub, head pressed
against the fellow’s lap. But why the tears
streaming down his mistress’ face? Her guest
studies her, bemused. Desi deserts
the couch. Something inside Hope’s psyche hurts.

Overturned for a belly rub, head pressed
against his lap, the pooch was sure his fellow
had passed her test. Yet why’s his girl distressed?
“Hold me!” she says, her voice like a warbling cello.
He wraps her in his arms and strokes her hair
and, for this timeless moment, they’re a pair.   

She’s pressed against his chest. But why the tears?
Nothing’s black and white as Desi’s coat.
All too soon the moment disappears
like the echo of a final chord that’ll float
and hang in the cavern of a concert hall—
a moment he’ll eternally recall.

Tears streaming down the woman’s face, her guest
tried guessing what was up, but didn’t query.
Holding hands, she suddenly undressed
her feelings: that she’s terrified, as wary
of being with him as a butterfly
is of a wasp that swoops down from the sky.

He studies her, bemused. No sweet desserts
will come their way tonight. He’s shy and meek
while she is extraverted. He averts
his eyes as she advises him to seek
a fellow artist. “We’ve a deep connection,”
she says, “but I shan’t give you my affection.”

They’re off the sofa now. Hope’s psyche hurts.
This man evokes the path she could have taken,
a parallel life she never had. She flirts
with regret. She won’t feel amorous. He’s shaken.
He wants to tell her, “An artist’s life is hard!”
but leaves as Desi frolics in the yard.