April 22, 2014


We left our portico door
ajar last night, to feel 
the cool breeze, you said,
wind carrying
the hum of life
from the hospital 
close nearby.
Someone's monitor
skips and jumps
until it has run dry.
Nurses note 
the passing time  
with a little sigh.

No one would say 
we're to blame, 
resting here,
fresh air flowing
around our names
like a rising tide,
everything so much 
cooler now, rushing in
from the other side.


April 17, 2014


The wind arrives
late at night,
blowing sand 
across the highway
of my dreams,
like snow drifting 
in my headlights,
beckoning even
the most hesitant
to follow.

Some say 
it's a warning
we will never quench 
our enormous thirst,
will keep driving
into the heart 
of the desert,
forever searching,
our parched lips 
mouthing now  
only a hollow,
meaningless sound.

We drive for hours
into nowhere,
seeing billboards 
for newly built homes,
available somewhere
in the mirage
ahead, disappearing
as we draw near.
White lizards scramble
across the road, so
supremely adapted,
they know
we're just an illusion,
like all the others
who came before.


April 14, 2014


Outside the window
I glimpse my lost love
nearing my home,
a quick foot 
around the hedge,
a presence watching
my every move.

I see her 
again, just out
of reach in the corner
of my eye,
lurking, trying not
to get my attention,
knowing I have
felt her here before,
no longer 
so much in awe  
of her now.

She wants only
to be with me 
in her new-found life,
testing how well
she can make it 
fit into mine.


April 9, 2014


Our building shakes
again in the night,
like a palm tree
caught in the wind.

Car alarms sound
in our troubled dreams,
no one knows 
where we've been.

Sometimes I wonder
why we're here, at all,
unsteady ground
searching to take us in.

We both hold on,
wondering when it will stop,
things seem worse 
than they really are.

Finally, we'll slip 
into deepest sleep,
forget the damage  
done, so far.


April 6, 2014

Found Beauty

Someday, the wind 
will shape us,
sculpt our skin
and bone,
make us smooth
to the touch,
you've come home,
landed in each other's dreams, 
all our rough edges gone, 
until we're finally uncovered
in the drifting sand,
picked up  
as found beauty,
by an innocent hand.


April 3, 2014

Going Under

After the procedure,
you're there
to drive me home.
In a fog, someone warns
I should take it easy, 
stay down 
for as long as I can.

We roll up
into the driveway.
"We're here," you smile,
as if I might never
have noticed.
Taking my hand,
you lead me down
beside the water,
reminding me
there's nothing 
at all to fear.

But I'm still deep 
within the shadow,
not knowing how
I might ever get back,
wondering where 
I'll be going,