2020 Annual Literary Contest
3rd Place
Poetry
Carmen Prefontaine
Winnipeg, MB
You say I can’t handle your masculinity
I respond “I can’t handle your mass stupidity”
We laugh, you pour some wine
The boxes of memories we’re rifling through
Seem to have little effect on you
I weep, you’re fine
You laugh at my tears, my feelings are stung
I swallow my hurt and lash out with my tongue
You look up, seem taken aback
You come to the bookshelf, turn me around
Wiping my tears, you ask what I’ve found
It’s “The Music of Burt Bacharach”
You laugh and say “this must belong to you”
You never stop to think your words through
I remind you of whence the disk came
You take it from me, professing regret
Alas, I will not forgive you just yet
You insert the disk and press play
You take my hands and dance me around
I see the boxes piled high on the ground
We’re nowhere near through
I resist irritation, instead I surrender
To your touch, your scent, your voice so tender
What else can I do?
It’s you.
