My Lover Never

Lovers never were supposed to be our friends.
That’s passion’s funny lie.
Matrimony had a lover,
they took bike rides together,
shared an angel sex partner
tied her to a cement block and utterly rejected her.
My lover never gave a handjob
in the muck, hardly.
My lover is a sex lamb, incensed
and salmon-colored
like that man over there,
pruning his foreign foliage, ignoring me.
Awfully American, pretending not.
A fancy American wearing stripes.
I’m wearing a skirt.
I tried to call, a little hurt.
Attending yet another wedding.
My lover pumps a bright bicycle,
hoards wire hangers, licks moths,
finds pleasures inside his mouth.
We must atone some, my love.
Something inside must climb and crinkle.

Reb Livingston
My Lover Never first appeared in Coconut (Issue # 2, 2005).
Poem, copyright © Reb Livingston, 2005
Appearing on the Fishouse with permission
Audio file, copyright © 2006, From the Fishouse