One person arrived in the night to make love to me.
He claimed me, unlike you,
who couldn’t handle me.
Ah, he appeared sweet and mature,
and he was Jewish.
Does that surprise you?
I don’t know why 1 am being prepped for a man.
I am living the life of Emily Dickinson
who burned for her Master.
I am having sex with strangers in dreams,
men in black hats and all the while there is one
watching.
You can’t read me. I am not one of my poems.
Steal this. Steal a kiss.
You can never read me.
This article appears in September 2014.
I don’t need to read a word when you speak to me so clear. Always my sweet and special flower. As ever
I’ll be here.
I just wrote a dream on paper. I tried so hard to be published in Chronogram. This poem made it. I was fortunate. Joanie
Warren Noeldechen 1923 to 2015, the author’s father…this poem was written in 2014. I have been writing poetry for 42 years. I am listed in Who’s Who. https://www.blogtalkradio.com/closeupradio/2021/05/05/close-up-radio-spotlights-poet-joan-noldechen