Sunday, September 21, 2008

All's fair in love and war

Let us grab the drop down-- the swim
through the waterfall, the deep shelves of books.
You are the milk I never mind warming
with my saucepan hands.
Let us say 'amen' until the voice
is rough and hoarse.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

an opportunity to die

I feel the heavy pull-- the drag
towards self, the cling of false ownership.
I watch as I try to gather wood before
the snowstorm--with splintered, bleeding arms,
I surrender not to the sweet death
the blizzard offers. A severe mercy comes
sweeping through the air; a mercy that craves
and licks loss. I should have known at the start
that God wouldn't let this grip live.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

the messengers are winds

colored blocks the child stacks are ashes,
ashes, we all fall down.
no more
of these cemetery days,
the blast from nostrils
of the ghost.
we are awake,
substantial.
like Lazerus--unwrap, gasp,
come forward.

Friday, September 12, 2008

I'm afraid you will wound me

Earlier, I hid in my coat. The wool
scraped at my ears, speaking of rough.

There's much to dodge these days;
the flu, the bee and his sting, you.

I confess a fear that snaps bone--
you are a good man, and this
is unfamiliar.

Monday, September 8, 2008

darling, it comes down to this...

I should have told you earlier,
over lunch, that I do enjoy
your company. Even though
the eggs were cold and somewhat
runny-- you were the perfect companion.
And I should also mention that I look
for your walk when in a crowd-- the steady
beat your shoes bang out on tar or tile. I pick
you out and decide to love your feet, your toes.
And, lest I forget, when you wrap your legs
around mine--everytime-- I believe this
is how I am to be captured.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

the miss of a mr.

I hate the uncertainty of words--the taste
they leave on fingers and tongue when you're
not looking, not expecting them to matter much.

I fear the missing of you-- the bits of laugh
you leave like pieces of bone in my soup.
I choke; I plot ways to get you back.

I dread the wake away from you-- the scent
of winter wrapping around my toes, bringing
me farther from your Irish eyes-- leaving
me alone with pine and evergreen.