Even

Even the light

Is different

Testing the dura

Of oxygen

Without you

Even thirst

Has no desire

Advertisements

Back to you

What used to matter

Hangs damp in cold room

Thin at neck, gravity urging shape

To stretch uneven and gnarled by neglect.

What used to matter

Is a stain that isn’t removed by washing, even on high

A partial magnet on fridge, without part that gave meaning

Just an outline, take a guess; bird or city, resort or wise crack

We fill in what nolonger makes sense, with the dried impatience of ninety year olds

Unable to return volley.

What used to matter

Lies between us at night, tossing and turning

If we were milk, we’d spoil before first light

But you were always practical, rinsing bottles the night before

If you’d been a typewriter you’d have made a perfect sound at the end of each sentence

ding

You take out the old and bring in the new

I’m reminded of lamps, one shiny, one tarnished

And your face, free of regret, is smooth as avocado forest

But if I tell you, we’ll go round and round, quips about green skin

And eventually sing Kermit’s song; It’s not easy being green

I know this before you’ve even moved, to rid us of silence

That has grown like icicles, betwixt our garden

So it is I, who unlatches back door and places

What used to matter

Out for recycling.

Early morning hands will whisk away

All those spoilt emotions

And sun will dapple our lawn with fresh light

I figure, it’s the start

Of doing things differently

And I climb the stairs

Back to you

Stranger

Stranger

Has eight letters, two vowels, six consonants

Can be chopped to negative connotation, or extended to romantic suggestion

Strange people can find each other and feel …

Less estranged

Strangeness can become, familiar

Like the day before a storm brings the brightest day

There are angels walking among us

They may have sagging skin and loose jowels

Dirty fingernails and missing teeth

But their smile is a beacon, guiding lost ships to harbor

Only today I met one as I held the post office door open

She said “this will be your year” and her warmth was a well tended fire in my heart

We marry strangers who have become loved ones

Strange is stronger than blood

You have never been a stranger to me, the day I met you I forsaw

Us walking beneath wet trees, the deer, sillouetted between bare branches

Our wet gloves smashed together

Holding tighter

Than the fierce grip of Winter

Sun


Thank you for loving me.

When my plait is full of burrs and

Stooping in pain, I resemble a wild thing, lost in herself

Thank you for loving me.

As night awakens terror’s and we bide our time in a pea boat, bobbing fitfully in green ditch

It is said 

You cannot love, if you do not first love yourself

That is false

It was you

Believing in me, staying long past easy

Helped to quench 

The natural tendecy to sell myself short

I hadn’t the heart for self love

It had healed badly without plaster cast

And would pain me when

The weather became cold

So I relocated

To a hot climate

But the ache followed 

Mindful of our tendency 

To repeat ourselves

Even in forgiving sun

Of Being


In the lowing keep

When shelter becomes more than solidity

Something bright in darkness

Warmth when cold

In the clasp of your arms

Timbered voice, felling fear

All around us animals stir, unseen 

The switch of their fur, and meadow smell

As if time had laced herself backwards

We drift beneath spells

Your mercy is a red fruit at my throat

Throbbing against the thin trickle of hope

My eyes are dim in this evening

Where shadows appear to turn light footed 

Swaying in our attachment to the finite

When all around, creatures cease without word

And new are born to cover the empiness before she knew herself lost

We have no prescribed place, or capture

It is as if nothing has roots and like the tumbleweed

Rolling beneath the smoky clouds with hushed song

Lets go of all that can harm, the vast solemnity 

Of being

Interpretation of sound

Your voice

Is a nest of time

First learning behind words

Their velvet center

Taking us both back to

Before I had language, listening to your

Interpretation of sound

I am the shell, come from the whorl of your ear

Talking to ourselves in drowsy pattern

We stitch close, layers forming billowing sails

As if all the world were a silken dream

And the smooth gust presses us into 

Everlasting attachment

Guilt


Guilt

Is a rare bird of shame

Its plumage

Breathtaking

For guilt

Captures the beholder, willing or not

Averting gaze from all else

Guilt will render paradise dowdy

Comparing freedom with the chains of its capture

Guilt is an old, fond bruise

Reminder of moments left torn to shreds

It will piece them carefully back

Twice as convincing, twice the weight

Strung round your neck like noose of sea pearls

Begging to be drowned

Guilt is a rose bush with bleeding thorns

A shudder as you catch yourself thinking of

Those pursed secrets you’ll never disclose, even to yourself

Snapshots you expunge, that still, listlessly, rise from the depths

Never speak of it, even to the merry faced doctors 

Plunging their needles as far as they’ll go

Guilt

Makes you sick

Wan faced, old before your time 

Aloof in the varnished secret

Guilt

Steals your liberty 

But like a lie

Guilt is not vanquished, even by truth

There are things better never admitted

Keep them so deep inside you start believing the deception

Until

Like a wide eyed bride

Guilt takes your hand 

And plunges you back where you’ve been all along

There’s no solution to shame when it’s too late to undo

The poison that you drink, the person you’ve turned into

Guarding yourself like a wreck against sharp rocks

With less and less by the day to salvage

If you spoke it out loud

Surely the very sky would catch fire

How many of us must carry a spark?

Burning in our secret hearts?

And maybe this is why

You never know another person by what they share

Instead

It is the unsaid

Electric in the air

We recognize in others

The tarnish of shame

As clear as promises once given

Cannot be refunded