Poems 1

I was grateful to re-read some beautiful poems by my friend Bonnie Naradzay who I shall address as “you”.

I take heart from remembering that you once held me so gently in your thoughts, albeit not without touches of your usual bumptious humor.

Recalling your gangly schoolgirl self is breath-catching.

I wonder if I am being narcissistic? So what. I am still grateful.

To Simon, My Erstwhile Lodger

Hello, down there in Alabama with the armadillos and cotton fields,

don’t have too much fun at Mardi Gras in Mobile, and hurry back! 

The night before you left, when you bent over to kiss me somewhere

near my mouth and touch my arm, as if I were again that gangly schoolgirl

walking the riverbank after the movie with the heartthrob from class,

I feared the next move in your reaching out.  This time I could not say

I think I need to go home now, and flee.  Loaded down with laptop and books,

I leaned into you, brushed your cheek with mine and rushed upstairs to bed,

huddled under sheets, afraid you’d make a further move in my direction. 

I’m not prepared for this; I’m unrehearsed.  Yet I miss your BBC-accented

voice, the nightly update on your day’s adventures, tales of encounters

with newspaper vendors at Prince Georges Plaza, the Green Line’s breakdowns,

your soccer team’s daring moves, smells of your elegant, garlicky risotto

rising from the stove, and being toasted with Italian wine.  I’ve had time

to think it over, out of your sway, and to slowly waken to the simple urge:

buy a silk nightgown with a slit up the side and play whatever part suggests itself. 

Bonnie Naradzay is a published poet. Her latest collection is entitled “Invited to the Feast”, available from Slant Books, Seattle (WA).

Invited to the Feast