|
Tortured flower (2007)
Petals drop she counts the ways she loves me – not enough.
I love her I love her not the daisy soon naked screams in agony “You love me not!” another petal plucked.
The rose, red with age fades to brown to black, love lilies grieve its death – still breathing comatose.
Heaven’s scent the lilac fresh, molds food for slugs my chamomile lawn strewn with weeds.
One by one she counts she loses count what does she count? – nothing, she’s forgotten.
Distant Trumpets (2007)
Distant trumpets blaring our wedding march, a fanfare yet unwritten. You were a stranger, everything I wasn’t. It was the only thing about you that I’ve ever known for certain.
We argue, stamp out of the room. We don’t speak for days, not of anything significant. We forget, not long, but enough to remember, remember why - the meaning of it all.
We are twins, yet you favour the bull and I the crab. Chocolate undoes us. Books, music, our passions.
Uneasy duet, rehearsing, got to get that passage right No, not that way! Well, maybe. You know always know best. Well get there eventually, Someday we’ll understand the complex rhythms of love.
Some Things Never Change (2008)
Guilty, I admit it. I'm reminded every time I remove my clip-on. She taught me how to tie a bowtie. I've long forgotten.
I don't wear my dinner jacket as much as I used to, when I was with her. My fault. She sent me away, and I didn't fight, not hard enough.
My DJ is old and ill-fitting. Too tight - I've expanded. I hang it in the closet, alongside my black trousers, non-matching. The right ones are still there, waiting for the day I'm skinny again.
I feel young when I'm with her, but she hates it because I've moved on. The ruffled shirts were so seventies, Now it's white linen, creased because I'm not bothered to iron.
It's still me underneath it all, there's more to love albeit with less hair. Some things never change.
On Being Mortal (2008)
Life sucks sometimes, dreaming, planning your future, but it doesn’t work. It’s not so easy.
You can’t have your cake, much less eat it. There is always something in the way, or someone.
Grand designs die with a whimper. You do what you can with what you were given – not much.
My lottery tickets never win, the numbers never come up. I have to work for it all now, but I’ve grown lazy.
I wish I’d laid a foundation, shook the right hands, greased the right palms, slept with the right ... men.
That was a hurdle too high for me; my switch-hitting is limited to baseball. Maybe I’d be famous now, in certain circles.
If I’d practised hard, where would I be now? It’s prostitution to get what you want.
I played safe, conventional; no chances, me – play by the rules. Don’t hurt, don’t get hurt. Someone always does.
They say you are as old as you feel, but who are they? Young, or blessed with a silver spoon. Where are they?
I have things to be thankful for, I know, but the tunnel is getting blacker. I’m starting over with no light at the end.
Yet I don’t give up, it’s all still to play for; I won’t have time to enjoy the prize, if I ever win.
Grease those flaccid palms, buy the ticket, sleep with ... no, still not that.
I’m still playing safe, playing the long game, but how long is that? Not long enough.
Hazel (2008)
Her eyes were blue today; they change with her clothes, with her mood, when she’s happy, bluest after a night of passion, in the morning.
I remember; mine were, too.
I shouldn’t have knocked, maybe he was still there. Sleep still in her hair, but not those eyes. I’d interrupted?
“No,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I couldn’t stay, shouldn’t, her robe invited, hastily adorned, barely worn. I was welcome.
“Just having a lazy day,” she said.
Not too lazy, still out of breath. Where was he? Who? I’d forgotten why I’d come, why I should go.
Those blue eyes - her body smiled.
They are green when she’s bored, or nervous, like me today, I love her mussed hair, her feet, one caressed the other; I had to run.
Hot in the car, too hot for January.
I remember too much.
A Dark Night in a Never-ending Past (2008)
should have been the best a little red candle insurance burning bright exorcising spirits
gone, the inferno of torment peace, resolution
not ours
missing, the fiery passion that bound us together replaced by regret new ghosts
strife, where there was none distrust, a cancer of doubt
festered
couldn't have been worse a love destroyed recriminations regrets of a dark night in a never-ending past
When the Rain Comes, Gently (2008)
the forgotten sunset, a burnt umbra crayon I never used, a half-broken promise reflected in a fractured mirror
whirlwind shards of truth buried in a frozen deception those selfish lies silent accusations stir an icy drizzle of resentment
when the rain comes, gently our temperatures falling lost innocence simmers over a low flame it’s never over when it ends
|