A possible ending

I wonder about the spine of your love-
the snap, the bone placement. Where were you
last night? I never used pain

killers before I met you. A shiver
goes through your face when I ask questions.

I am not an epidural,
I will not make life easier.

She lives under things

a pile of leaves, the newspaper
on the breakfast table, a night-cap.

an agnostic fresh out of confusion,
(we all live at the bottom of a well),
a three days journey to Tokyo.

i did not come for an argument,
your beer was like butter
on my daily bread, a kiss for Santa-
a slap for Jesus.

If you give me the moon

If you give me the moon, I will
put away my rhyme and scheme and reason--
I will melt. If you give
me the moon, I will stand up straight
and always cross my legs at the ankle.
I will try to understand your mother,
say my prayers in perfect 3/4 time,
wash behind my ears with rose hip soap.
If you give me the moon, I will
kiss you with my eyes closed.
If you give, I will.
If you give, I will.

spilt milk

the ring caught on fire and I didn't put it out.
the next door neighbor winked at me.
I stuck out my tongue at commitment.

two can play at this game.

Things that quake

Its not just teeth this time--
its your hand inside me, your body
on a cross on a hill far far away, its
the whore on the floor, the man wailing
at the Wall. This time
it is things I should have left
behind that still follow me
into the night. And the thing
I should have been carrying-- should
be gripping, should be drinking and
eating-- left in a hollow along the way.
Yes, when you spoke there was
night and there was day,
and I'm told that your hand and arm
and muscles rolled the stone away--
so, tell me how to lift my tongue
in such a way that may cause
you to fall for me.

a triune tribute

In the beginning was the word
and the womb- a tight fist punching
its way out of the heavens.

She lives as an upside-down
clock- in time with breath and
death. Each heave a sign of life.

In the upstairs room is a couch
filled with fluff and flies-- the threads
unwind and tear at the thought of weight.

bitter cold

I woke with a bite
of frost in my mouth, leaving
it's mark beneath my tongue. Winter
has come early this year-- like a burn,
or a war. It breaks my knees, my spirit,
my coat out of the closet. Autumn forgot
her name, forgot me, left me
to jump this ice-cubed puddle alone.