I wake to tiny feet And long legs Always perpendicular to my body But parallel to my heart And you will grow weary Of my bad jokes and silly puns As I grow tired of your always-presence Though we’ll each miss them when they’re gone. But now, at seven You’ve taken up that role of the bad comedian Much better than I, Here at 35, once was. So I don’t change your angle anymore Or carry you to your bed. Instead I wake and hold your feet in my hands…read more
After a while, things keep going wrong, and you start to feel the urge to dig deeper. That’s not to say, I am not fully aware of where I’ve been mistreated, transgressed upon, oppressed, wronged… hurt, betrayed. That’s not to say, I have been the imperfection in a perfect world. No, I know things have been wrong on the other side of this coin for a long time, many coins, repeatedly. But, after a while, you look at that common denominator and realize… there has to be something, some failure,…read more
Here in the wee hours After prayer and prostration The panic of hours settles in So much can be done in darkness So much that nothing will be done at all So I contemplate you and I and him also What we or he and I could have become How broken we all must be to never become anything more than shattered pieces of little stories that will never be finished Fables and fairytales that will never be told. I thought I saw you Wild and beautiful And him too…read more
You told me in not so many words that you cannot love me when you’re hurting You cannot take an interest in who or what I am while licking your own wounds I look at the smooth chip of skin placed softly amidst the wrinkles of my third knuckle and infer a diagnosis: Even when I draw blood not even the feigning of concern How bored I must be to tolerate this not-so love How many years might I wait for you to notice Me.