Another Love Poem

And he had asked her “where do I finish then? On to your back?”,

and she had said no, no; we’re outside, for God’s sake, just dump it over the grass,

and he had

pulled out and away from her just in time, and continued to wind the thing up by hand

before he came with the phlegmy glob and shot it up and over her ass,

into the dirt.

So that was that, and the evening was coming home, and growing cold

so, they gathered up their things and brought them back into the home.

“Good night, my love, I love you more than when that thing we love does that thing it does”,

and then they kissed and each turned off their lamp,

and thought, all together and at once: look at us,

picture perfect in each other arms!

The problem for her began in the morning when, at last,

rising from the smoke of bed first thing before the dream has reached a natural end,

and looking out the window of their bedroom, she could see the patch where they had lain

and saw the spot where he had emptied himself, which overnight had been showered with rain,

and could see his own head sticking out of the soil there, in no rush,

only milling and casting his gaze idly around.

She turned to look at him, still sleeping in the bed, blanketed against the dawn,

and decided she would go down and speak with the head before it was arms and torso above the ground.

In that case, it may prove more difficult to chop him to death for he might grab hold of the axe,

and the way things stood as of now, they did neither of them own a gun.

He woke up after an hour or so and could hear her laughing and chatting, but could not distinguish the words

coming from outside, and he sat up in the bed, shielded his eyes against the sun

and heard, in response, a voice he did not recognize but came to cede as his own when,

at last, he made his way to the backyard and found her squatting, animatedly conversing with his own head.

“Oh, darling, can you believe it? Look what’s happened!”

“Yes, yes dear, it’s amazing.”

“Oh, he’s just like you, but green. Green! You know how surly you’ve become…”

“Yes, yes dear,” he was determined to respond to her, but secretly worried over what he had done.

Over the meals that followed the course of the next few weeks, she would gush about his head, relentlessly,

and could not be bothered anymore to meet his eyes, and he could not hide his jealousy.

“Say. Don’t you think we ought to chop him up before he becomes a problem, and gets as tall as me?”

“Ye-es,” she would say, but then, “just give me the pleasure of one more week”.

And he did.

And he did and did and did.

By the time the thing was up to its waist,

she was bringing it coffee in the morning and three meals on a tray.

She dressed it in his own clothes and stayed outside for hours to chat and play boardgames.

“Sure, he loves the boardgames but bridge is his favourite. BRIDGE! Do you remember when we first met and bridge is all we’d play?”

She was smitten, at best,

and he could not lower himself to spend time with some semen-born, garden-grown version of himself.

“We ought to be chopping it up, not bringing it tea and singing it tunes!”

“Soon, soon.”

But soon came the time,

and he became instantly and entirely fed up when he saw them kissing one night-

at that point, it was standing fully up to the thighs.

He watched frozen as he watched his wife from the window of their bedroom tongue the thing up and down,

and saw it reach clumsily for her breasts and tried to undo her bra from over her shirt. Yes, he could be clumsy, he knew,

and at seeing this, he finally flew off the handle and- “Goddammit, I have had ENOUGH of you two!”

-came out brandishing the axe, at last.

At last, the axe; he trumpeted as he made his way through the garden to their spot,

but “no, no, no, let’s stop this, let’s not.”

She managed to talk him down from his murderous rage. The thing only looked on at the scene, amused.

“I love you, I do, only it’s nighttime and I had gotten confused, you see, I had thought he was you.”

And he had accepted this.

He had to, in order to live.  

“Just come back inside now,” he said, dejected, then walked off back to the house.

“Soon, soon,” he heard her say to his behind.

And yet, despite this, she remained outside for quite some time.

He lay in bed, defeated, and sighed.

All he could do was fall asleep and tomorrow, the three of them would talk and decide what to do next.

However, now enough above ground to pull itself out, the two of them chopped him to bits in his bed as he slept.

And they buried him, yes, in a specially designated garden plot,

and the thing moved into the house and merrily adopted his spot.

Now, he was him, no longer the thing, and she was so happy to have renewed the love within their house.

Fortunately, or not, after some time had passed and she had felt similar feelings of tedium start to rouse,

as she became used to her new lover, and the way he kissed, and fucked, and fumbled her blouse,

she observed one morning that something else had started to raise

from the place they had buried the bits of corpse.

Undistinguishable at first, but then, he saw it was a head again, of course.

His head, to be sure- the whole ordeal was happening once more.

Ridden with angst, he pulled at his hair, bit down on his lips, and wondered at what he had done.

“Shall we go out and meet him?”

“Yes, yes dear, whatever you want.”

She smiled and arranged the kitchen before opening the screen doors up to the sun.