Sunday, October 28, 2012

The Vacancy Grows

To a vacuum in the quiet of evenings
Cooking alone recalling
The conversations we used to have,
Like the tasting of the sauce.

A sink devoid of dishes,
A room where all you left
Was 70 cents on the desk.

The tent was folded away,
The counter without crumbs,
Your generic teabags waiting for boiling water
On your return, at tea time.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Dirt Road Series, Part III

You clap
You pant
You raise your voice,
But I will not stop.
We are here to raise you up,
So get up yourself
Down that long gravel road
To town and back again
Hoping the eggs will make it
And you, before dark.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Dirt Road Series, Part II

You stand there begging
Pleading for there to be an easier way,
On the shoulder of the only road.
Your shoes show in layers of red dust
The toil of your walk. Your cry
Will not be assuaged by me.

Pushing against the corner of a fence
With the might of a dung beetle,
Trying without luck to forget about
The bloody wound on its shoulder.
I saw that Kilpspringer once, though,
I feel like I see her everyday.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Dirt Road Series, Part I

What is a hand in the air?
A second of force, 
slightest exertion?
It is less than the least, to say
You might not be alone, I saw
Your need, and we were here
In high-speed, passing neglect.