August 26, 2014


When I call,
my rings go unanswered.
I know you like
being alone,
having perfected 
your own way
of ignoring the phone.
Just like you never
hear my knock
on your door, 
leave messages 
forever unopened,
you've become good
at pretending
you're not really there,
until I've grown used 
to your absence,
knowing no matter
where you are,
you're not with me.
Even when I sip
your drink
from the untouched cup,
you're not where
you said you'd be.

August 22, 2014


I asked your father
for your hand,
you flowed in and out 
of my dreams.
How could he just
give you away?
Perhaps we were not
what we seemed.
You said Yes when I popped
the question, then I Do,
in a ceremony
flush with sacrifice
and surrender,
sealed with a kiss
and golden rings.
Women wept
as we promised
one another.

We awakened naked
in a perfect garden,
where we wandered 
dazed and forgotten, 
until one day,
we were banished, 

I barely remember
the taste of apple, 
when we were still
so unspoiled,

August 19, 2014


Some say the dead 
are always waiting,
watching us 
with infinite patience, 
waning when we grow ill,
waxing, when we prevail.

They will be
rewarded soon;
we've traveled so far
to be with them this time,
hearing their long-lost voices
carried on the wind
as we approach, beneath 
a bloodless moon.

August 15, 2014


At first we noticed
how quiet it is,
how everyone eventually
goes away. 
Then we saw 
we couldn't leave;
when we couldn't
get out of
our front yard,
it looked like
we would stay.  

There's a crew
to cut the grass,
more guests arriving
every day.  Sprinklers
go on and off by themselves,
no one ever 
has much to say.

We've never regretted
coming here, though
we're not sure
why we came.
Except for the fact
we can't leave,
everything else seems 
just the same.

August 13, 2014


I hear sirens 
late into the night,
wondering if they're
coming for me.
But how would they 
even know where I am,
unless they notice
when I walk by,
hearing the trouble
in my sigh.

Each siren grows loud
before fading away,
looking for someone new.
I guess they must know 
by now, there's not much
they can do,
having already been 
many times 
to my door,
they know the problem 
is really you.

August 9, 2014


I watch the palms 
by the pool
being trimmed,
men high up 
cutting heavy fronds,
all falling down. The trees
look so much better: 
crisp, manicured, happy. 
Now we walk 
a little faster,
speak more precisely,
our mood shifting
until we see everything 
more clearly, 
wondering why we feel 
an urge to clean,
can't stand ourselves
in the mirror,
just want to be out
at the pool, 
floating in the water,
staring up at the palms
moving in the wind.