J-Patt's Blog

Feel, Fumble

He runs his fingers across 
her curves to feel and  fumble

for her, though he knows
he’s not really there—

he knows each night he is
an imitation of himself.

Sometimes, when he fails, she
opens her eyes and asks

if something is wrong, and he
answers that it is simply

an anger or sadness spurred
from a discussion of politics

or some other topic
of little importance  that festers,

leaves a taste, or distaste,
on his tongue, against his palette,
and that he is better now.

EDIT: In the recording, I say percontra.com is the website professor M N Kotzin posts to, I meant http://percontra.net/.