Lover in the Closet

after more years than a decade
of love together, break-up punctuations,
make-ups, tweener lovers, some stand in
comedically imitative near misses

after those many years
my now ex-lover ended our practice
of the well known lesbotic erotic kiss
we once so enjoyed and so often employed,

and it was in the ironic
sixty-ninth year of my being.

she then preferred, it seems,
her own oiled finger to incite her dreams
even while I lie idle beside her
silent in the shadow of her schemes

but even the blind can find the cunning ploy
employed for the sake of a lover or,
maybe two, one for penetrating thought,
the other for her wagging tongue

out of bounds is where I found
the cursory orgasm, a few grunts lost

there was no lock, there was no key
she needn’t lie, to realize being free
I opened the window, and found my way
to set aside what was hoped and embrace what be.

the kiss opened every door
because the double back beast
was lame, its health half poor
she closed the door, and what is more

there was a lover behind the closet door.