He stares at her picture: golden highlights, swinging in the hammock next to him. she was so wonderful to touch. her last breath is a question to him: her thoughts, prayers. What did he do to her before she died? How much did she suffer? he digs his nails into his gray sheets, wondering: where…
Tag: poems
Five elegies (Elegy 3: the younger sister)
a dress is not worth so much as this. the fight should not have happened. cotton and stitch. But it’s mine after all, I am not to blame. I didn’t tell her to go. she had plenty to wear. So what if it matched her gray sweater. I should have gone like she…
Five elegies (Elegy 2: the father)
He must be strong not to cry. His wife needs his strength. As he walks into a world of satin lining, he thinks of her Prom. The satin and lace gown had flown around her like flocks of dappled canaries. Yellow is her favorite color. This satin shall shroud her. He winces. The gray light…
Five elegies (Elegy 1: the mother)
gone. (looking at palm) the hand feels empty. madman. flashing: gray, black, white. a little girl in bathing suit, squirting water from the hose at the camera. gone. why not some other mother’s baby? she wonders: will the body ache for the loss of love like the ache after birth for the loss of…
Courtyard of my Dreams
I stood before you my soul naked. And you embraced all my faults and sorrows loving, accepting. There have been times in my life when I thought I would love no one not even myself. But then I found you standing in the Courtyard of my Dreams full of wild flowers in bloom, your shirt…
Blaming David
your smooth flesh is marble, etched hard muscles like no man [save supermodels] evanescent beauty is forever yours vita brevis arta longa the mold of you casts a shadow across me still how did you find the time to perfect mind and body and still work 40 hours each week? my beauty is rain in…
If food is culture…
I do not want to eat some watered down bastardized version of Moo Goo Gia Pan. I want to eat real Chinese food. I do not want to eat complacent middle American tacos and burritos. I want authentic Mexican food. I have had enough hamburgers, artificial flavors, artificial colors, reconstituted chicken product and processed cheese…
(sitting on an urban park bench)
she resembled a grandma doll with dried apple for head, staring eerily from its perch on a shelf. wild on her head, her hair had turned white and was stained yellow, like gauze left on a wound too long. her clothes, old, musty like air blowing from an abandoned building. her orthopedic shoes tap…
willow
She lay on the ground head propped against the willow tree, a lonesome Grace, spent from dance In her eyes lived a deep, inherent sadness, delicate, and always weeping… as the leaves of the willow around her billowed like a shroud for pain
summer breeze
the Aeolian song of chimes outside my window deliver me to peace as warmth and wonder caress my skin. petals dither on stems and branches and fall in velvet kisses to the grass.
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