Up, black, striped and demasked like the chasuble
 
At a funeral mass, the skunk’s tail
 
Paraded the skunk. Night after night
 
I expected her like a visitor.The refrigerator whinnied into silence.
 
My desk light softened beyond the verandah.
 
Small oranges loomed in the orange tree.
 
I began to be tense as a voyeur.After eleven years i was composing
 
Love-letters again, broaching the 'wife’
 
Like a stored cask, as if its slender vowel
 
Had mutated into the night earth and airOf California. The beautiful, useless
 
Tang of eucalyptus spelt your absense.
 
The aftermath of a mouthful of wine
 
Was like inhaling you off a cold pillow.And there she was, the intent and glamorous,
 
Ordinary, mysterious skunk,
 
Mythologized, demythologized,
 
Snuffing the boards five feet beyond me.It all came back to me last night, stirred
 
By the sootfall of your things at bedtime,
 
Your head-down, tail-up hunt in a bottom drawer
 
For the black plunge-line nightdress.

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Robert L. Martin
about 2 years

Wow. That was great. I'll have to read it a few hundred times again. I love the imagery

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