Forest for the trees

You are not mine–it was a dream
and each time I imagined us
I saw you–solid–under me
(not) considering
I would be (not) yours;

What is to be done? I do not know
you were a dream, and we together
felt bigger than [the sum of] us apart–
I would have given anything
I do not know what to do;

And what of this logjam?
Each tree we cut down
(logs from every bridge we burned)
charred and slamming together–
kind of hard to see the charm
in this river now;

So will you go? I cannot
offer you what she does
my hands are not small
they are strong
they have worked hard–

I hear her words are gold, but
my words are like cymbals
wind chimes on a headache
ineffectual at the least–
I am not a social success;

Once I hugged a tree.
I put it on my resume, and
they were not amused
each road I took that felt right
had a block, and an impasse;

So here you are:
scribbler, to be accurate;

I held babies
until they slept. I sang
Silent Night, Holy Night
until she
let go of my hand;

a mother
singing karaoke.


the wind is changing again

all of our spring and summer
went wild with autumn
then froze solid
each tender caress replaced
with slaps and words tossed askew
seasonally mad

each private spot I showed you
in a weak moment, is
now vulnerable to windy storms
and harsh words
like a little girl eyes up
(please be kind)

it is a matter of time, before
that girl will recall her strength
close the door forever
that allowed you in, and
let inside
the wind and weather

In the ring

Each day we brushed
up against one another
(we could have had
all the chocolates
a friendship can offer)
sweet notes
spoiled by bitter tones

I was in awe
of you on a pedestal
you did not ask for
walking around me
in bullfighter stance, when
bending my head to charge
I watched you crumble

While regrets ate my resolve
no sleep, and no inclination
to count days
measuring quality of life
sucking up oxygen
and strawberries