April 22nd, 2008
for Heather
Lay your head on my shoulder, Kitten, and smile to reassure me that you’re content.
I’ve scattered sorrows and doubts on the floor in front of you,
expectantly waiting for you to arrange the bits in some miraculous way;
to free me from the bitterness I keep creating.
But you just purr and cock your head, a sweet smile forming on the face of a friend.
I’ll leave the pieces of shattered heart exposed on the floor for a while,
hoping that someone will take pity on the mess and offer to help put things in order,
but I can see it in your eyes, even as you refuse to tell me the truth;
this is my mess to clean up and I’ll be doing it alone.
Lay your head on my shoulder, Kitten; your smile will reassure me that I can be content too.
4.22.2008
April 21st, 2008
My life is scattered words which rise up at moments
in a show of strength to overtake me and pronounce themselves,
the masters of my mind and heart.
The swell is ferocious, syllabic streams rush down my face
as I strain to contain the rushing.
I don’t own the words; I have never owned the words.
They own me.
When the showing is at last over, the words retreat,
consonants and vowels take their places,
peacefully allowing me to focus on my day-to-day life.
But then my eye will catch sight of a butternut squash,
a kitten, or David Eugene, causing the words to rise up again.
4.2.2008
April 2nd, 2008
Keeping in mind that this day belongs to Lori,
I raise a glass to her and wish ceremonious,
but insincere, blessings for the coming year.
Bitterly following behind her, she’s dressed in yellow,
an outfit I picked out and secretly she’s always hated.
She always loved too much and kept herself hopeful to joys she’d never know.
I believe in hope, but can’t be wrapped up in it myself.
I shrink down, find my way free from expectations and remain only myself.
Drive on, yourself, towards goals and new friends.
The time has been too short for sentiment and I simply offer nothing.
The dinners and the hours of longing are more distant than time itself;
they fade quickly into beige thoughts, pure and happy, but forgotten.
4.2.2008
