my dearest libby

My dearest Libby
Is the type of poem
With a first verse
Just like the title line

My dearest Libby
Was my sex partner
For two years
In college

My dearest Libby
Got into drugs
Turned into a film-ready junkie
Sucked cock for coke

Once she offered to bring along
Her girlfriend
For a threesome
I said no

Being a junkie myself
I had nothing to offer
Sex just isn’t that interesting
After riding wild horses

I wish I could go back in time
And tell her: My dearest Libby
I wrote this poem for you
Title and first verse are the same

I’m not a great poet
But I love you so much I don’t care
I want you to be my girlfriend
Like, for reals

My dearest Libby


ron kenan (Colchester, VT, 1972)

harsh words from letdown parents

going back home was a long delayed matter
because I had nothing to bring back,
as in no news, no stories to tell,
no girlfriend and no money

and then it had been long enough,
the truth was known
and so that was the news:
the news is there are no news

no stories to tell,
and I haven't seen Amy
in a very long time now,
no money whatsoever

years ago, out of who knows what stupid
angry unclear reasons
I set this riot loose inside
and my grips I can tell no more

this moody and grim person I become,
a loner, barely going out
I sit in front of the tv
no questions asked

so going for the long delayed task
I was exposing what was left
of my alcohol drenched guts
and my stench was all over the road

when they opened the door and looked at me with pity
but then it was just sheer shame
what-have-we-done-wrong
my mother cried

you wasted your education
you wasted your life
is this how you show gratitude
to this family?

no mom, I don't have a girlfriend
and I wouldn't have asked you to wire cash, dad,
if I had a real job; it's just me here, at home,
defeated

there was no welcome dinner
but I stayed for the night
mom sat with me at the table
for breakfast the next day

the cold autumn breeze smelled like pancakes
and I had shaved and felt I had never left
mom gave me a kiss and poured some coffee
the kitchen door was open

maybe I hadn't woke up yet
there was something glowing outside
I sat and felt at peace
toast was burning

and still, there she was standing with lost eyes
early that sunday morning
isn't it sad, she said, have you read the paper?
and I was delighted to look at her into the eyes again

there is no welcome dinner for the son defeated
but mom will always
give you breakfast
and a kiss, I thought

I ruled out staying
not out of pride
because I lost all of it years ago
out of who knows what stupid angry reasons

it didn't work out the way I wanted
it just didn't
so spare the harsh words
you could tell right from the start

I was not the brilliant child you always wanted
I'm still trying to come to terms with myself
and you always knew
I was not the kind of child you wanted


ron kenan (Colchester, VT, 1972)

she is now dating some brazilian guy

for Amy, with love and regret






chinese food wrappers spread on the floor
spicy nachos, empty bottles, ageless lint
and tucked between the cushions
your goodbye letter, damp

inked in blue, written in a shake
you were still doing coke when you left
i am happily unemployed still
i am stilll a mess like you were with me

i could have never become a father
and while i tried to come to terms with myself
i know i felt with you that itch
i think i was in love

she is now dating some brazilian guy karl told me
and i cried in front of the tv
that's why the letter was wet
stained with the grease of the nachos and the hot sauce

i just wish you well
i hope you are clean
and have plans of having a family
that's what you always really really wanted


ron kenan (Colchester, VT, 1972)