Finally, I
can acknowledge
hope keeps me returning there,
even when I know it is
nothing, that there’s no
residual sweetness
between us, that
nothing remains. He doesn’t
do anything but leave
me behind like a
bad habit. He strips the sheets like the scent of me is a stain,
as if cleansing means there was no
desire, no ache disguised as sweetness.
Nothing that’s
remaining was ever
quite sufficiently
enough to be sweet.
____________________________________________________
Golden Shovel poem using the line “I acknowledge there is no sweetness that doesn’t leave a stain, no sweetness that’s ever sufficiently sweet,” from Stephen Dunn’s Sweetness.
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More stories from Tina D. Lopez and writers in Poets and other communities.
December 8, 1980
When I was six or seven, my stepdad came into my life, and I remember thinking he knew everything. He could befriend anybody, anywhere. In grocery stores, he chatted with strangers over cuts of meat; at gas stations, he bonded with people pumping fuel over how the smell of gasoline was disgusting and yet enjoyable. In restaurants, he took an interest in waiters’ lives—like Steve, whose father was dying of cancer. When Steve’s dad died, my new dad attended the funeral.
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Comments (1)
Cool! I had to look up Golden Shovel. Nice job, and I liked the lines (heartbreaking): He strips the sheets like the scent of me is a stain, as if cleansing means there was no desire, no ache disguised as sweetness