the honeymoon is over
by and published in Edition Five of Pomegranate
in the bedroom, i can
smell his warm and naked
body. the depths of night are
in here (the clean, straight,
striking nemesis who will,
eventually, undo me); i un-
dress very quietly, listening
to my flesh harmonize with
the darkness.
its only 11:30, he’s been down
for a couple of hours already, i
am not at all sleepy, i miss the
courtship (he does too, though,
we never speak of it, of course).
impossibly, the sounds of my
singing skin reverberate for
hours and i will not break
from waking, not until it is
too late to have dreams. he
rolls away with all the pillows,
with all the covers caught up.
the cat believes she will someday
be able to eat us alive. it is 2:30;
sweating, frustrated, full of adrenaline
for some weird reason, i move to the
couch. i miss the turbulence, the
uncertainty, the late nights and
debacle. i reminisce the silken meat
of the first kiss, the weight of
potential, the roughshod preamble
of dawn – coming on by surprise
every time…counted for,
the list runs on, grows to outmatch
me, finally.
Iris Appelquist
Iris Appelquist is a Kansas City, Missouri native and resident. At 25, she has managed to carve out a nice enough niche for herself in the spoken word/poetry scene in KC. Using her experiences in travel, art, and life, her work largely examines the explicitly duplicitous nature of being human and alive in these very strange modern times. A body of work is maintained by her on the Internet @ www.myspace.com/appelquist.