Black Buckles Black No Matter What

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The grief for him does not belong to you
Alone, though now you are alone, much more
Alone. Black curly hair forever true
Belongs to others even that  bar whore
He loved much more than you, much more than wife
Or son whom he abandoned.  He would say
He loved those two along with Christ, but life
Had other notions.  She had felt the spray
Of him inside her passages, all three.
Then Jesus was abandoned for a shot
At thrills inside his veins.  Those two were free
The while he swooned for others, others hot.
These all (and I) now have the memory of
Black curly hair he leaves behind his shove.

©  Phillip Whidden