Saturday, September 29, 2012

My Letter Arrived Two Weeks Too Late.

Today is the last time I’ll see
your birthday on my calendar.
Next year it will be left to memory and care
if its is to be kept and observed.

What I recall of what I wrote
means little in the light
Of the winter shade and the horror
That the lord has made.
In that time you have celebrated
Clasmir Palaski Day, but I wasn’t near
enough to give you a golden rod or 4H stone.
Even if the nurse’s head didn’t hang so low,
He still takes, and he takes, and he

Saw the texts but couldn’t read
And wondered all night if
Of you, again, he’d ever see,
As did I, he held my hand
Taking words, having left the screams.
We’re all beginners when it comes to love.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Home is Right Before Me

An inch beyond a step
But I can not reach it.

Running, kicking, pushing on
With all one’s strength—
To the left, to the right
In no direction do I arrive.

I can feel the breeze
It is clear as day
Yet invisible forces
Block the way.

Screaming at the top of my lungs—
The whole world gone fey—
For minutes at end, I learn
None finish feeling gay.

There will never be a reason for
Why we will die in mid air
Like this bee against the window.