Sending poetry to the world
Dreaming of Tuesday’s
parties, glorious rippling
colors, all manner of
food and gaiety, strangers with
strange stories, big ridiculous hats,
cacophony of singing,
and drunkenness, lots of it
spinning, hours disappearing
under the weight of the night
and slow dancing whispers,
all versions of us
unwilling to believe in a
dawning Wednesday.
Soft bed of snow in a dark forest, two bodies breathe.
Inhale –
we feel the cold burden, the dead weight,
it presses for answers as our chests fight to rise, rise, rise …
Exhale–
gratefully, audibly. When it’s over, snow settles
on our eyelids with the lightest touch. We, in ancient silence,
lay breathless.
when rain falls
in the nascent glow
of a streetlight,
it seems to wear a veil,
a widow’s gown
you and i
have felt the distance
between two knees
sitting too close
it’s taken its toll
the bells of the church
agree – and inside
The Beatles lament
the loss
and turn
defiantly –
those headlights in the rain.
There is this cat on the walk
And when I shuffle on by,
She swishes her tail, she
Stops to say hi.
There is this cat on the walk,
I swear she knows me,
She looks up with pause,
She rubs legs with a cause.
And before she runs off
This cat seems to say
“You think it ain’t true
But I’m one you once knew….”
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