Old Town

It must be spring--
Through open windows,
the roar of trucks rolling by.

Bookmark

I am the corner
of a page
folded over.

I drip down the leg
of my favorite chair
and drown in a pool
of boredom.

The Breadmaker

Bread crumbs shed

on the kitchen floor.

Through dusty waves

of whole wheat pollen,

we watch the bread tree grow.

She is carrots and beets,

and parsnips bent

over wooden spoons,

swells of sauvignon

drowning

dripping

dried out

on the floor.

Goodbye

Banana wheel rolls

off counter's edge

She calmly packs

her things

into the blender.

Mountain Laurel

Teetering

Beneath her knife,

the seesaw

of apple slice.

Company

Along battered cascades,
mossy rocks
and pink tube socks.

The sycamore's pale
yellow and green
sway above like buggers
in a breeze

Bee in Wild Geranium

May 3rd

Remembering

Sour waves of violence
on the palimpsest of mind

Yarn Over

She knits
green scarves
to undo
what's unraveled.

She parachutes over acres of love,
unprepared.

Prayer

Unsour
the fruits
that fall
upon
our lives.

Glancing Blows

The unwelcoming

of patience lost.

I've seen that look

before.

Sips of gas-stop's finest

on endless roads.

I drive with the sludge

on my mind.

The unflooding of winter

back into a dusty autumn day.

Janvier

The subtle pause

of a new

year

Wrapped in blankets

and snow

I remember anew

my love

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

Flakes

You give to me

that pan-fried, 

fishy smile again.

The foliage unwinds -

our hands sway 

above the orange 

and browns

I find holes

in bed

where

I've slipped

away.

Lemonade

We toss her tears

from the windowsill

and make rainbows.

She folds 

green sheets

twice over.

Along 

the worn 

down

edges

she revisits

the memory

of her rape.

Perspective

Some will say 

that you ran away

(and that is fine).

I know you ran away

to find me

(and that is better).

The immunity of trauma

held hostage in secrecy.

A bird flew

straight into me 

and died.

My becoming 

invisible

grows

 

from persons

to animals

She is salt and flesh -

an oyster melting

in my mouth.

I can no longer figure out 

why I spend so much  time

changing zeroes into ones

and then back again.

She sleeps

with her eyes

wide open

because she fears

I'll leave.

I am surrounded

by an army 

of sticky notes

I have hung myself

like a banana,

to ripen and fall

Brush strokes 

of coffee

paint 

every aspect

of my life

including

my dissertation

With such vivid colors,

she illustrates her mind

with denial and regret.

Stretch me 

across your life

so thin

I'll disappear

OK

All of this -

breast cancer, divorce,

and a car accident -

renews her faith

that nothing

will ever be