Janet Lynn

You were my lover
until the night that you weren’t.

You called me Janet…
in the green shaded sunlight streams
(like a stained glass painting)
where we ran naked
beneath that haunted woodland canopy.

I, daring to travel
to forbidden places
which our fathers forbade…
to pluck the rose
whose thorns did prick,
beading blood from innocent skin.

On that final night
you called me Lynn…
(my misspelled middle name)
when I appeared naked before you
on the edge of twilight forest storm clouds;
there, where I was deflowered
by a fairy queen’s decree.

It was there,
in the shadow of such
bewildering and bruising beauty
that you abandoned me,
never to return.

As I had been counseled,
I held tight to myself
when you would have
let me go…

And being unsaved,
I saved myself,
even as you faltered
and fled.

True, I haunted that place
on the following,
on the morrow,
as I brushed past tree limbs
still wet with last night’s
cleansing rain.

I walked to the spot where we’d smoked;
the remains of last night’s victims,
the evidence which proved
that last night’s disaster
had indeed taken place…
a world shattering event
which we have never discussed.

That woodland fairyland
is a cursed place
which returns
to haunt my dreams.

That night I had been transformed
into many creatures,
into many forms,
burned away to nothing
and reborn from the ashes.

Janet and Lynn united in a pairing
you could not possibly conceive of.

And thus combined,
and bereft of your touch,
I stumbled into the morning
to learn what we’d become.

Written by Jason Wright
October 7, 2019

For Michael C.

Broken Beauty

I remember you,
the you before now,
the you from back then.

You were older than me
but you were young when I was,
glistening nakedly
as you ran in for water
after yearly mile run.

I didn’t know you well,
though we smiled for one another;
we drank and frequented
the same bars…
you, weaving in and out
of my existence…
you wrote letters from prison
to my dearest of friends,
and I thought perhaps you had died.

I drove you home once;
but I doubt you’d remember it;
you were drunk and clinging
to that night’s latest trick.

I was jealous of him
as I made sure you both arrived at your home safely,
as I ensured your survival and my own cuckoldry…
even as you stumbled from my car
at gas station to vomit on the sidewalk
and on my left rear tire.

You told me you were sorry
and you sounded miserable…
and that night’s lover looked embarrassed
if no less interested in sharing your bed,
not that I blamed him…
you were beautiful in your blindness
and completely unsuspecting.

You were already broken then,
but the glinting light
from those shards of self
shone like diamonds
in a world filled with pebbles.

That same night,
I drove home alone
to my little village farm house,
where I sprayed the vomit off my car
with a garden hose
in the far too bright, sunlit morning.

I never saw you again.

Written by Jason Wright
April 13, 2019

For Dale Lipke

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