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POEM I:
A LONELY LOVER

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There is a loud unearthing
dug by one's hands
— a steady heartbeat
from an unsteady woman.
A reminder of time shrank
like the vestiges of
a hearty dinner.

Once such loneliness
has withered and decayed
( which is to say, never! )
my bones will finally split
into the right directions.

I have yet to experience
someone's timid telltale gaze
through softened eyes
or the adamant persistence
of a soul's hard - earned kisses.

I scream, Love me! Love me!
But who shall answer?

Not anyone that
I am not afraid of.

— Lenore Hastings,
A Lonely Lover.

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