31 Mar 2011


Pressed by her 
longing for him
time tries to convince her
he never really existed
that the kisses and the whispers
were a mere hallucination
an illusion
of her own troubled mind

in the night, the sensation
of his arm pulling away  
from under  her neck,
as his ghost leaves her bed.
The Other

my eloquence
could not capture
or perhaps articulation
fails when
first embraces
are as light
as young leaves tickled
by spring’s youthful sun,
as bold as a rising wave,
engraved as the first taste
of loss.

Who decides?
who belongs with who?
and what loves to condemn?

standing at the kitchen sink
washing clean dishes
a futile distraction
repeating ;
you belong with her
she belongs with you
and they  who decide
will always condemn
the other .

30 Mar 2011

I love you as I love this anger
that comes with losing you
thick and heavy, the stiff anger that
denounces hope,
denounces truth,
then returns wave like crashing
every bit of bone in this skeleton desire
The six days old tulips - erect in their glass vase
(elegant and feminine)
shed their mature petals
shedding the weight of their beauty
submitting to time
reconsidering inevitability.
When they first handed you to me
I wondered where I’ve seen you before –
Not in a dream

I thought of all that I’ve already given you;
my temper, my guilty conscious
I thought of all that I’ve already taken away.