My Valentine

Snowy Valentine.jpg

The light in here is too bright for morning
the sunrise peachy glow distorted and squinting
our distinctive beginning comes to me at the same time
both warm and cuspated

knowing your love still exists helps me to
keep on, keep on, and knowing you still love me
bids me not give up

The lights in this room are too dim to read by
in the evening, the aroma of sausage, with its
fennel and thyme, and the acid of tomatoes
keeping things real

the streaks in the sky at sundown leaving
little illumination to stir the sauce pot, little to the
imagination of a pair of love thieves in a jam

And some days we don’t take the time, even to
let eyes meet, but we continue, and
knowing your love still exists
helps me keep on, keep on

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Make a wish at daybreak

split the sky

The fog lifts from the top of the corn
just ready to be picked
the long damp fingers reaching out to the roads
the moist touch of morning
coating the car as we pass
headlights like cat’s eyes
peering through the vapor

Glancing to the low places
my mind is glittered with thoughts
of fairies dancing in the foam
concocting their schemes
their wings dotted with the
facets of diamonds
in the face of a rising sun

My thoughts must stay on the road
but my own fairy sits on the dashboard
her tutu puffed out and glistening
spinning pirouettes
across the dash and fluttering
hovering near the auxiliary lights

Such riches as we continue on
a knife through butter
splitting the air
taking with us the fairy dust
like sugar on tea cakes
our wishes like those of children
as we begin our day

5:25 a.m.

split the sky

A crimson streak has split the sky
ten minutes before coffee
having woke in the darkness at 3:30

What do I owe You for this spectacle
in the middle of fractured thoughts
letting the clouds break for just this now

Hanging full and heavy these clouds
like full breasts, they
threaten to burst out but then do not

Hovering gray and pendulous
with just this slash of red
surrounded by periwinkle and ash

Warrior at daybreak

sunrise-sept-19

Facing down my day
daring me to conquer it
baby, I am armed
with more
than my pride
what I’ve got
ripe sweet fresh
peach from the tree

Each minute–every day
you keep talking
all your trash–you like to
spread around the place
baby you know it
baby
I know more than
I let on

Falling from the tree
and your good graces
as if I would let that stop me
as though your petty cruelty, and
manipulative currency
mean a thing

Inside this space
I give to no one
resolute
water-tight
each day a new start
the pieces of the puzzle
coming together
rising with the sun

At my window

I am waiting for the sun to come up
impatient–loving my night–but
also missing the sun–
(don’t tell the other mushrooms)
the memory of that warmth
on my skin on my body on my face
shining and new–every morning
a new start–to bulldoze
the old foul-ups

A car goes by and I wonder
where he is going
if the scent of my coffee
wafts into his window
and he wishes he were still
breakfasting reading plotting–
still–I’ll be busy soon–after
this moment
when the sun first burns
the surface of the lake

A day of fasting

I thought I had nothing to give. I cried for what I had lost. The trees, the birds, the sky for years were ignored by me in lieu of sitting and doing everything except what I wanted to do. If I went out, it was after the sun had gone down. I would dance, drink, laugh and, again, add to the haze over anything real that I no longer wanted to feel. Inject that anesthesia. Turn on the smoke machine.

In time, a song would come on the radio or the jukebox and I would melt right there where I sat or stood. The words and the music would remind me of a time when someone had cut out a piece of my heart, or, like a cannibal, had chosen a part of me to be his dinner, next to a nice herb and butter risotto and a glass of Prosecco.

Now I wake and no matter how I feel, I open the shade while it is still dark, in order not to miss the rising of the sun.

a day is a gift
your smile, a wrapped package
starve the cannibals

pink roses and strawberry preserves

The light in here is too bright for morning
the sunrise peachy glow distorted and squinting
our distinctive beginning comes to me at the same time
both warm and cuspated

knowing your love still exists helps me keep on
keep on, knowing you still love me bids me
not give up

The lights in this room are too dim to read by
in the evening, the aroma of sausage with its
fennel and thyme and the acid of tomatoes keeping
things real

the streaks in the sky at sundown leaving little
illumination to stir the sauce pot, little to the
imagination of a pair of love thieves in a jam

And some days we don’t have the time to
let eyes meet, but we continue, and
knowing your love still exists
helps me keep on, keep on

Wardrobe change

Sunrise june 4

The sky is changing once more
her dark gown for morning
her shimmering, chameleon of a gown
that is gold at once, and then fuchsia

no matter the night I have had
the seagulls do what they do
scanning the parking lot for leavings
before the first crew comes to sweep

despite my heart aching – the dew
is still there covering the grass
and the roses just shy, waiting to open
with full sunshine, yes they have their parts

and they just go on, don’t they
go on as always, the birds and the grass
no matter how we are broken up or feel
as though our lives have stopped