A TIGER WITHOUT CLAWS


You left today,
A golden day, and the mulberry shadow was gray.
The sun hung hotly on a dusky string,
And it felt so damned good
Until you died.

We were pressed with grief
Into a dying room.
You left four old hairs on my shirt,
Lit against black, because oh baby
I carried you,
And you did not fight,
And you always fight,
So I knew you were dying today.

You spent the day anciently
In the roses and on my bed.
It was hot, and I know how much
You love the sun, thumping stonily
To yourself in bars of morning,
Like a diesel, baby, like an engine
You always did.
So when you would not speak to me,
When you cried only once
In the weeping car,
I knew you were dying today.

I left you quiet behind me,
Widely eyed and oh God so hush-hush
On a the metal table where they toss
The ones they know are dying today,
And you did not glare at me
The way you did, the way I wish you would;
Come on, baby,
At least be angry with me.

There is no more lurk in the porch,
No more sway in the summer shadow,
Only concrete and rustling.
I am not my baby’s keeper,
Not no more, no more, no more.
I left you on a golden street,
With your sweetest sun dipping down,
Like iced tea that slurred in me
When we jived without sound, without movement,
Only with summer purrs,
For those are different from any other.

I left you on a golden street,
I swear; I knew they were your favorite,
For they are mine,
And I hooked one for you
While I was crying, because I love you,
When I heard
That you were dying today.