My Desktops Frighten Me ... old poems distract

I save so much for a quick return that chaos ensues. My Desktop resembles my life.  So, I distract myself . I find some words set down nearly a decade ago when I imagined a poet within. Imagine I must.

p.s. it was not you after all!

The song refrained
I want
to TAKE YOU
FOR GRANTED.
And I
Realized that that is a quality I seek
In a life partner
And you seem to want the same
things, the security of cuddle, a generosity
in deciding upon another's needs
The reliable, voice embrace
For sweeter sleep.

I am
attracted in my marrow to a gentleness
In you

So unexpected that I
do not want to disappoint you
or me. 

You proceed with every caution
yet remain attentive like
an eager once starved lover:
To taste, to savor, to imagine
a picnic or festival or dinner
for two

I want a smart man, a man's
Man. I fail to question these qualities
Of you 'cause I need
a father for my son. I desire
To be

The sum of my parts, my
past resides in me and him.
Would that I could
speak of beauty, fear and for
-nication.  And, yes
I would rather sip the wine
With you

Because when I drink
I want to Take You
For Granted
if it is you
That I am to Cease
refraining from.
We wait

stomachs talking
later to drift to sleep
on pillows that remain
our own.

 

 ~~

So where to from here? I will try tasks again. I did promise to find the poem Deerkill, an even older vintage of recycled words and pass it along to a hunter. We discussed guns because that is happening, talk of guns, in light of the Newtown shooting -- claiming innocence and rattling our sense of humanity.

Deerkill

traffic inching, mind rushing
anxious tempos that traffic does not halt
then doe in a heap -- as carcass comes into view.
already, traffic news warns
deerkill is slowing traffic to a standstill on a daily commute paved through wild life, far to the south,
same route
others are slowed by 12 hundred pound alligator
sunbathing

slowed by innocent
crashing
over white line
into white tail
waking stomach, mind, recall --
the men in Vermont had a deer camp
and bright orange vests that kept them
from shooting each other.  This I remember
as the topic turned
to guns
words
declared over beer
Using guns
against deer is shamefully unfair.  A deer
will feed my family for a winter, maybe more
It is a sport.  It is an industry.  It is food.  It is
an excuse to own a gun.
Opinions emerge.  Positions unify.  Energy clarifies.  Stark disconnects
speak through a congested atmosphere.  The private
school down the road has a rifle range - good
marksmen get credit toward graduation.  A boy
I knew got credit, he said he would never
kill deer

It does not take expertise to kill.
Passion, fear, retaliation are killers.
When paths cross, bullets, roads, knives,arrows
cut to the quick .  The archer
had killed deer many times
with a bow and arrow.  Said this was more fair for the doe
then guns...he trained his aim for hours, days, weeks, seasons
of deerkilling,
this hunter without a gun.  He could not buy a
gun, he knew accidents happen.
He knew.

I saw a deer by the highway shoulder
out of range of guns, arrows, and for the moment
cars
I looked back as traffic slowed over concrete, the super trail filled with rushing hearts
stopped
by one dead doe.  Accidents
happen. Can't buy a gun. Can't practice for credit.
Fear stops me. Like the alligator, my blood runs to warm
in the sun.