Philanderer

Here is my 30/30 poem of the day. Today's NY Times word of the day is Philanderer. Another challenge from the powers that be. Often when I face poetic challenges like this, I look to other poetic, photographic, or language sources to gather words, phrases, images (which I transform) for content. Today, I came upon the Dusie Tuesday poem by Barbara Henning, which I really love. I'm going to attempt to mimic the form and flow of the poem. It's not quite there, but it's a try.

Philanderer

It’s not about where 
or why, she says.
It’s about the feel when
things start turning sideways.
She can even describe
the shapes as they oscillate
and circumscribe her.
She knows: Rhombus.
Isosceles. Quadrilateral. Quickly, now.
She hears him leave
through the back door
before he even exits.
Screen door banging. Crack.
She starts to sing
because she knows somewhere
someone wants to hear her.
He might even still be
walking across the room.
She starts to sweat,
not because she has to,
but because she thinks she should
while she sings and then
she feels so busy
because she’s doing so many things
at the same time. By the time
she finishes the song,
she’s sitting in a small puddle.
She starts to ask questions
and wonder why for
for the first time in years.