Archive for the LYNNE SAVITT Category

Two Poems by LYNNE SAVITT

Posted in LYNNE SAVITT with tags on August 6, 2020 by Scot

LAST POEM FOR THE LAST MAN STANDING

it’s not a revelation after half a century
the love of my life cannot love i don’t
blame him after thirty-three years in prison
his instincts for survival miraculous two
strokes living with catheter & daily aides
he enjoys what he can forbidden cigarette
18 hours of tv everyday company of strangers
to wipe his ass prepare his food clean his home
every need seen to & paid for by same people
who paid for his incarceration & there was me
or another woman to utter praise &i love yous
to send cookies & cards & news of family not
really his photos of grandchildren he never saw
born or graduate but claimed to belong to some
thing i needed also like air to hear undying love
but when we are ill it’s hard to spare extra energy
&i called to tell him the well is dry &i’m thirsty
he said the right thing he always does he’s says
he’s there forever saved my life in the late 1970s
&i returned the favor twice when he had his strokes
but we’re old now & live apart & my husband brings
my pills & bottle of water every night my dogs sleep
curled around me & grandchildren text or call
i miss THE him i thought he was like he’ll miss the me
i am forever grateful for the lies of love that saved us

____________

 

On Receiving A Manuscript From An Old Acquaintance
I’ve known for 46 Years

 

sent to me & 39 others asking for
comments first i think how lucky
to have reached our age & have dozens
of people left on earth who’d read
yr poems i quietly digest them
want to say subject matter has been
grandly covered by donald hall
jim harrison tom mcgrath to name a
few of hundreds who have done it
better & before i think these mundane
musings are colorless & flat & lack
mystery insight image but i remember
you were a friend once when i truly
needed one & a lover when i had many
i think it was you on cocaine some
small upstairs bedroom near a cemetery
maybe a purple dress maybe i smoked
a joint these days I take on death & aging
in a physical manner having lost almost
everyone i’ve loved finding myself
a devotee of doctors & cat scans biopsies
thirty-eight may comment on this manuscript
i for one remain respectfully quiet

HALF A CENTURY OF LOVE, THE LAST LOVE POEM by LYNNE SAVITT

Posted in LYNNE SAVITT with tags on December 14, 2019 by Scot

 

i still have words & warmth
physical reactions to memories
now when we speak it’s brief
terse sentences ending with
yr need to urinate or take a another
yellow pill it’s hard to swallow
this end of passion so strong
it burned decades through
families & partners & consequences
it wasn’t prison that separated us
or miles or husbands or wives
yr stroke diminished energy to love
me though you speak it every day
on the phone & now my arthritic
body can’t respond i send cards
candy socks love tepid as marriage
i look at the sad saggy cheeked husband
who shares my life here & my own face
time has been kind to me the juice
of our fluid desire kept me young
today my one true love i will wither
like the other old crones where i rent
in a complex on the island my identity
stays wet like the ever-eroding shores
& you locked near the woods attached
to tv like an iv & aides to help you
daily live out yr days dry as sand
i send in an envelope to remind you
of hours at the beach when we smelled
each other’s skin & floated on ocean
of longing to carry us to eternity
i’m not too tired to remember

THERE IS A BLACK & WHITE PHOTOGRAPH by LYNNE SAVITT

Posted in LYNNE SAVITT with tags on December 4, 2018 by Scot

 

THERE IS A BLACK & WHITE PHOTOGRAPH

of two little girls about 8 & 5 years old
wearing matching striped bathing caps
between them stands a man in a dark suit
his eyes so ice blue you can tell even in a
colorless photo his hands on their tiny heads
like a magician pulling them out of a top hat

in late afternoon he draws the shades un
dresses himself one by one he tells the
children to come & nap their bare backs
spooning into him who pinches their arms
shoulders buttocks instructs them to put
their spidery legs between his thighs

decades later after their father’s funeral
sisters remember those times in the four
poster bed on top of the slick quilt with
grandpa never tell anyone & they didn’t
for over 50 years until that rainy night
finishing each others’ sentences identical

memories stunned at exactness of twin
detail flashbulb goes off their own father
never hugged or kissed or touched them
grandpa who always wore a suit & tie even
in hundred degree weather buttoned up
tight except those late summer afternoons

with his two little discreet rabbits
& their secret blue thighs

LOVE DOESN’T DIE by LYNNE SAVITT

Posted in LYNNE SAVITT with tags on November 4, 2018 by Scot

 

i cannot remember not loving
you had other lives before me
after me did too but us always
histories shared our lost baby
yr decades in prison my kids
became yours & layers of love
kept us going we cemented
memories like bricks never lost
foundation yr wives my husbands
our lovers still there was us yearning
almost four years since yr stroke
& intimacy has crumbled like house
in hurricane i hear yr voice every
day before yesterday yr chair broke
& grumpy as a toddler with no sleep
you bitched abt it limoncello cake
i sent for yr 71st birthday sits in yr
refrigerator aide wasn’t there when
it arrived & you struggled to get it
in the past we could laugh abt this
can’t get any better me hundreds of
miles away i struggle with family
health limping through the days
calling you at night sometimes
waiting until i know you are asleep
i leave message ‘i love you’ i do yr
pain yr bad foot & left hand that won’t
work the slur in yr speech you are
going to teach a class & meet some
one i hope comfort i can’t give you
find in face arms of caring woman
husband, grandkids, dogs keep me
moving away & LIVING afraid to
say i’m happy i wish for you moments
of joy to savor like we did each other
for decades but now my darling i don’t
want to hear abt bathroom accidents
or endless tv shows or the yankees
list of medications plethora of side
effects me too my love didn’t die
it just got tired

WHAT CAN BE FIXED by LYNNE SAVITT

Posted in LYNNE SAVITT with tags on August 28, 2018 by Scot

 

there are three leaks in my bedroom
ceiling as winter keeps us unbalanced
springlike one day alaskan cold the
next like first fourteen year old heart
break you cling to sharp ache of the
boy whose ring you wore round yr
neck caught kissing cheerleader with
long dark ponytail tears like broken
soda fountain poured you bleached
yr hair blonde & never looked back
then on his knees begging for second
chances you’d never fall again pain
kept you safe all the other males vying
for yr yellow head of fluff remember
how good it felt to smash his class
ring with a hammer & throw it into
river of the dripping ceiling reminds
me slow healing makes you strong
enough to break yr heart again & again
each crack cementing grief & joy staining
yr brain like the circles of peeling plaster
i vacuum sad brown carpet waiting for
the roofer who never comes

Sex & Dignity by LYNNE SAVITT

Posted in LYNNE SAVITT with tags on January 30, 2018 by Scot

 

a white hospital blanket covered your feeding
tube yr eyes closed peaceful as a corpse yr
glasses resting on yr flat broken nose pale
as i’ve ever seen you in over forty years loving
you i kissed yr forehead warm & wrinkled smile
came to yr face opening yr eyes “my princess”
you said to my daughter who left the room to
give us privacy “touch my cock,” you asked &
as if we were in the prison visiting room i reached
under the starched sheet searching for yr penis
but I couldn’t find a quarter inch of of the almost
eight i remembered ‘’where is it?’’ i asked ‘’it’s gone’’
‘’under the diaper i’m wearing, ‘’ you answered
SEX AFTER SIXTY was a book i used to shelve
while working at b. dalton’s when i was in my
twenties never looking ahead to the rules it
listed put away yr medications & photos of yr
grandkids no where was a chapter on diapers
or arthritic hands that could freeze in permanent
grip if i tried a hospital hand job to take care
of you need more than i could ever give i’m
remarried now living hundreds of miles
away i am still yr healthcare proxy & to you
still responsible for yr shy cock swaddled
in a paper diaper yearning to be a warrior again

Another Night Without Yr Voice by LYNNE SAVITT

Posted in LYNNE SAVITT with tags on January 5, 2018 by Scot

 

makes the frigid air seem colder
inside i see my breath spiral like yr
cigarette smoke outside the motel
door those humid warm summer
evenings we spent living in air
conditioning ourselves for the
inevitable split apart like shelled
peanuts we ate in bed watching
the yankees lose the attitude my
love how I miss the nightly sweet
sounds of yr longing melts me daily
my fingers running through the coats
of my dogs garner my affections these
days but the nights still after
more than four decades belong to
you got older first by having a stroke
& I came to you too late for motel
rooms & the haze of sex that carried
us for years & years & years oh baby
tonight it can’t be any colder below
zero chance of our bodies working
together again I listen for the ring
bringing yr voice to me, in me warm
as summer motel memories
of an old woman still loving an old man

The Night of The Raspberries by Lynne Savitt

Posted in LYNNE SAVITT with tags on December 18, 2017 by Scot

 

i’d forgotten about the first snow of the season
how black ice owns my fragile bones
ankle, wrist, ribs
keeping me locked inside against my will
how empty the refrigerator was after
eggplant florentine, cornbread stuffed
turkey breast, broccoli rabe filled
yr stomach all week & all that was left
were my elegant raspberries
reminding me of how, after decades in prison,
you wouldn’t allow me to lock
any of the doors & how always
you yearned for a full refrigerator
not an apple graced my table tonight
today you live snow covered hills
& winding roads hours away
the raspberries aren’t as sweet
& all my doors stay locked now

CHARLES CORNELIUS NEWTON by LYNNE SAVITT

Posted in LYNNE SAVITT with tags on September 12, 2016 by Scot

 

because i’ve reached the ripe old age of 69
i check the obituaries regularly searching
for what man is still going strong after me
this week i found my children’s father died
in 2015 at age 69 at his home in ohio
this pediatrician left the country to avoid
child support & never recognized our son
or daughter after he stole the blue cross
check when our daughter was diagnosed
with insulin dependent diabetes at age 6
we ran into him once when my kids were
13 & 14 & he hid in his car & locked the doors
when i called his name the only other time we
saw him was a week before our son turned 21
& he took me to court to try to avoid paying back
child support he was now living again in the U.S.
we were babies when we married & i left him
happy to be free raising my kids alone working
three jobs in court he said, “i’ll hurt her the only
way i can through HER kids.” in his obit they
are never mentioned but he NEVER acknowledged
them in life why would they be acknowledged in death?
none of his declared interests had changed
& oddly enough his dog named jackson has
the same name as our daughter’s dog named jackson
he still loved his college basketball & the horses
nothing seemed to have changed except
his third wife who insecurely called herself
his soulmate in the obituary i sent my kids
in an email & neither of them had anything to say
about a father they never knew, ‘’why do you care?”
asked my daughter the truth is i never thought
about him MY CHILDREN are successful
joyful people with super kids of their own
the three of us a fatherless family
we swam the choppy ocean of life
reaching the shiny shores on our own
your loss charles cornelius newton R.I.P.

GIVING UP THE GHOST by LYNNE SAVITT

Posted in LYNNE SAVITT with tags on July 22, 2016 by Scot

 

for a.m.

did you get the card for the memorial
our friend, noel, “celebration of a life
most thoughtfully lived” what will they
say about us i ask you as we raise
martini glasses & light a joint looking
at photos of all our old lovers eleven
boxes in the decades we’ve known each
other’s lovers cowboys, convicts, poets,
professors, artists, mechanics, doctors,
chefs, motorcycle racers, an indian chief
& an actor we never thought this day would
come as you are to the service for once
illuminating beauty but dulled by wind &
sun mapped faces once juicy as our sex lives
now dry as feet we cream with aloe & shea
butter me up with kind words praising a life
of thoughtless pursuit & dwindling resources
oh, but the sweet memory & exaggeration of
love lies in stories bloated purple with details
how gentle & obsessed he was, how virile &
devoted our tales become classic swill but
our mirrors don’t lie look at us corpses in
training big red smears for mouths never
close the coffin & sing me a dirge wrap me
in gold-flecked red velvet use movie camera
to capture event i promise if you go first i’ll
take the sea green tulle & sequined scallop
shells float you on a gardenia covered kayak
either way, sweet pal, don’t let the legends
fade crying old lovers pulled from graves &
life to mourn us most dramatically queens
of poetry & passion may we live forever