Saturday, July 22, 2017

waking ...



waking ...
you wake beside me
your eyes searching
through the dimmest
corners of the room
like two restless stars
wanting only somewhere
to settle
in the dark skyways
of my life
and when you open
your soft eyelids
you open
open
open
you open
the world
to some miracle
i remember from
before
from before the darkness came
from before you
and before the light
you brought
before
the light
you brought
the light
the light i had lost
the light
of your eyes
seeing
seeing for me
seeing
seeing one last time
into tomorrow




 







 

Friday, July 21, 2017

this is the photograph



this is the photograph
this is the
photograph
of you
dressed in
black and white
it has faded
along the hemline
of your summer dress
and just over
your left eyebrow
there is a small
almost indistinct
crease
which sadly
gives you
an angry
expression
behind you
is a blur
of sepia
and the muted yellows
of age
seeming to drip
out of focus
blending
only at last
in a dark
smudge
by your
feet

this is the
photograph
of you
i keep
with me
always
and sometimes
when the subway
slows
a sudden
fear
overcomes me
and begins
to blister into
reality
with the uncertain
certainty
that you are
gone

this is the
photograph
of you
that too often
i pull
from my
shirt pocket
to stare past
my thumb
into your
eyes
half-closed
but looking
back
at me
with a kind of
half-open
promise
that i was sure
you
would
keep



 







 

Friday, June 30, 2017

arms ...



arms ...
sometimes
arms slip into the darkness
stretch and stretch
and reach for
the impossible
but sometimes those arms
catch hold
of something not so impossible
sometimes grasp
something firm and solid
and sometimes those arms hold on
for more than a minute
more than an hour
more than a day
more than a month or a year
sometimes those arms hold
and hold
and hold on forever
never ceasing to be strong
and sure
and coaxing
and caring
and convincing
those are the arms
i surely need now —
i'm not asking that you
try to hold me from
passing from this life
only that you're there
so that i may not slip
into the emptiness
so completely
alone


 







 

Monday, June 26, 2017

Polaroid Girl ...



Polaroid Girl ...
your body
clings to me
like ivy finding its way
in serpentine patterns
over the cracks
and crevices of
an antique brick wall
and i still remember
the way you turned
your face away
even as you pushed
your naked breasts
into sharp focus
when you first became
my Polaroid girl

you watched and giggled
when i fumbled to find
the perfect angle
to capture
the passionate collision
of Venus and Mars
my finger snapping the shutter
and igniting a sudden flash of light
that made me flinch
"Quit moving," you cautioned
"Or you'll just get a blur"
and how could i not
instantly watch my love develop
there with you
my Polaroid girl

the years run past
like shadows overlapping
sunny daisies
and somewhere in a shoe box
or beneath the underwear
in my drawer
a younger woman
with a body serene
(although slightly tinted bluish green)
lingers in my memory
the you in you
who discovered that the freedom to be
exists far beyond
the clunky white borders surrounding
my Polaroid girl


 







 

Tuesday, May 09, 2017

i am the rain ...



i am the rain ...
i am the rain
falling from the darkest
tower of clouds
and washing over you
here beneath the canopy
of the groaning bed
where you lie
in wet-waiting
your arms pulling me to you
in a hard and fierce downpour
under an umbrella of soft sheets
until my body dissolves
and floods the riverbank creases
of your flesh
with the fertile silt of my love

in the calm afterwards
the deluge of the watery desire
in your eyes is transformed
and trickles into salty streaks
etched across your face
as your thoughts float back
over the torrential failings
of your turbulent past
recalling lovers found and lovers lost
through so many desperate years
the years of dry thunderstorms
scratching through the fog of your life
clawing through the standstill soot
with crooked fingernails of lightning
that illuminated your dusty world
for the briefest moment
with bright flashes of expectation
only to disappear forever
without leaving behind
a single drop of hope
until the shadows
veil your eyes
with sleep

when morning stirs
and blends the eastern horizon
into a potion of cascading colours overflowing
the coffee cup brim of the world
you watch the hot summer sun
rising through the scattering clouds
watch it steam across the asphalt fields
and in the warming light
your face softens
when you turn to ask
in fearful disbelief
why
why you should trust me
when i promise you
that i will remain
or even if that is what i truly mean
when i so boldly say to you that
i am the rain

 







 








 
 


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