Brass

I have spent my life
being loud, strident, trite.
Trumpeting like a swan?
More like honking goose-like.
Of all the ears that could not hear
the deafest one was mine.

Shower

He likes to watch me, unseen,
in the shower
my head, heavy with grief
leaning against the cold tiles
my bulging belly
overhanging with untold secrets
my Botticelli flank
aching from a neglected spine
the clear water
running down my legs
diffused with the urine
of failed surgeries
he touches the curtain
(a passing breeze, really)
to inform me of your admiraton
as he watches me
in the shower
where I stand, unseen.

Coming Home

She is sprawled
half undressed
guileless
her arms hanging over
the sides of her chair
reading, so deep in thought
that putting on the other
half of her clothes
has slipped her mind
I bend over her for a kiss
she holds up a hand
index finger pointing
and I wait. Impatient.

Awakening

The awakening was slow
and late in the coming
so the light would not blind
my unbelieving eyes.

Dilemma

To leave
and make you realize
what you had.

To stay
and risk your eternal
not-knowing.

To love
and have you think it
my weakness.

The choice is absurd:
to hurt not having you
to suffer because I do.

Foundation

A house was started in the spring
no cement was poured:
they wonder how it crumbled
they did not see it fall.

One brought lumber
soaked in tears,
some brittle bark
to weave their fears;
one added planks
termite riddled,
one did not come
to build at all.

One carried nails
rusted with blood;
they hammered it
to stay aloft
through wind and rain,
in joy and pain
when they thought summer
came to call.

The walls were built
with careless hope
that all would be
withstandable.
They built for years
not looking down
to see if it would
stand too tall.

Now here they stand
among the heaps
of windblown dreams
at summer's end.
A house was built,
none came to see
the swaying stilts
none can recall:

No cement was poured.

Backroads

Flying down the black ribbon
of a winter road covered
in the ashes of mourning snow.
Rushing by leafless, lifeless
gnarled fingers rising
from twisted trunks asking for just this
one more day in the sun.