There are not enough words
to draw you

there are too many words, and
the truth lies, somewhere
between layers of cake and dissidence
and your smile

that juts in, without
invitation
like sunshine

Yes
I loved
I was patient
I care(d)
but
I can’t fit that girl
you have an image of
that sedate, smouldering
piece of hot property–
your fantasy–
she is not me
so, be well
I will be here
swinging
with abandon
from my chandelier

Measure twice, cut once

She was my biggest fan
when I was not even sure
of my words, always failing me
to get what was inside
on the outside

I was her biggest critic
(there was a time)
when I saw only anger
my way of grieving over a life
that could not be reversed

Here I am
twenty years past
thumbing through volumes
rifling over fabric scraps
to find a pattern
to answer questions

and all I see is love
through the eyes
of the mercy of time past
how she took reams of my words
sharing them
sowing them like seeds

then dead at 56
we were out of time
and any chance to bridge gulfs
and sew seams, but I remember
how we had pie and coffee
and laughed

my eyes are brown
yours are blue
that’s good too
this poem needs work
it’s true
I planted seeds
that never grew
I woke up blue
I spilled my coffee

how do you teach poetry
shall you instruct
how to have a soul
in chairs, facing front
apple on the table
will you tell me how to feel
in alphabetical order
you would do well
to hold class
at the edge of the volcano
the center of the storm