Monday, April 18, 2011

What I didn't tell you

did I say how the snow crunched beneath those rusty runners,

the baler twine frayed in wet mittens,

how the gravel stuck to sand, but not rainwater?

did you get the musty smell of the haymow,

the mud nests of the swallows,

how my tears were pillowed in the black grey ruff of my dog,

facing north,

blurred as the shifting streaked curtains of the aurora

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Monday, April 4, 2011


Crepe de chine flowers
Shine, then lose luster.
In wishes and dreams
We ask always for the other
And come to the pool
Misted over,
A mirror.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Feed Your Pain

You are holding it so tightly,
Trying to bleed it knuckle-dry with your fists,
Bury it in blankets and sighs,
Ashamed of your dear little pain.

But perhaps your pain has fur and teeth
And wants feeding:
Fresh walnuts and white goat brie.
Perhaps your pain bites sharp
In red rounds of radishes
Or stings keenly like vodka
In breathtaking gulps,
And only sniffs the salad
You offer it.

Perhaps your pain rises in chunking clumps,
A funicular up the slopes,
Flushed full of Bull’s Blood
And bittersweet chocolate covered marzipan.
Perhaps your pain is suffused
With tarragon
And melts so slowly over warm petit pans.
Perhaps your pain cries
High in summer trees
For fraises des bois in cream
And asks:
Darling, are you happy, or very happy?

Perhaps,           Finally,
Your pain stretches out next to you,
Trimmed green on a hillock
Of blazing white daisies
And goldenrod fringe,
And asks only      only
 for one more kiss.