Clickety-Clack.

The sounds 

of a dissertation

unstalled.

Dishes break themselves
on the kitchen floor.
Cupboard-doors slam
against the woodwork.

I watch as a woman
(who for so long
has been invisible)
tries to make herself known.

A women is bent

into a staircase

and walked upon.

To her,

I am 

just a strange

sack of skin

with eyes.

We come home 

and find

the compassion 

we've saved

(for years)

is gone.

A woman weeps
over gallon jugs:

three for a quarter

one for a dime.

Gray

I slip into silver

on the slipperiest

of slopes.

From faucet to drain -

she appears and vanishes

like drops of water.

Hands on a Mug

Oolong tea

oozes warmth

and reprise.

Unaccomplishment

whimpers

in a dream

of powdery snow

We are dragged

through winter days

so swollen 

with rain and mud

Holiday Conservation

We patch

together

and iron out

the torn

and crumpled-up

wrapping paper