the last boyfriend
my last boyfriend
was a big man, full-bearded
and masculine; everyone around me
wondered what I saw in him.
i said diffident things about his mind
or his lips. but the truth
lay somewhere beyond that--he fucked me
like he hated me, and I got off
on that. And the muddy light
in his eyes reminded me of the dim light of my father.
but, really, my last boyfriend
was something more than a stand-in for an abuser--
he was one himself, blaming me for all of his shortcomings
and all of the failures between us. and I accepted
because I am used to this from men. I have a large
space in my soul for blame
and I carry it wisely.
after he left me, I stared for a while
into the place where the blame had been.
experimentally, I tried
filling it on my own.
then I emptied that place
and left it out to dry.
i have no more time for blame
and no more room
for muddy light
that's never enough
to see by.
8/6/99