rooms are full.

There is time enough.

Time to move in.

I can see theeRo9m
other end of

tomorrow,

when the door to
you is open
and the end of time

itself.
beats


In your face. Your
blue eyes are
the
Signature
of our

Love.

We are emblazoned.

   Our existence,

in our faces reflect
on my own.

Our
blue eyes
move into

Tomorrow


Caroline Shank
February 22, 2025

The numbers of sin’z
scales written ,
of
her inequities is
like bells on
Christmas
morning.

Never silent She (I)

is
capable
of great

misunderstandings.

Tomorrow's multiplying
the rotations
around the

streetlamp.
Kids we were singing
And cLapping

Every time today is
crumpled.

Lights on the ground.

Not forever (me)
Again.

Sing a song of
Six
pence

inevitably.

And she died of
bleach.
Scrubbing Hands burn.

He left on a
weekday.

Today
when I was
Young.

Tomorrow and tomorrow
and tomorrow

was a play

after all.



Caroline Shank
2.18.2025

50 years


ago, full of the
Righteousness of God.

He

?
who held my place
while insanity

With torn dreams, the
miasmas of lost love.

Bless me Father
you who showed
the ways to Hell

Baptizet me
Again.

The midnight (sirens
are lapping.
I stumble from
the drink of happiness

spilled on the sands.

You whose conscious is
trifled with like the fish
on the line

I eat
my disappointment

cold


Caroline Shank
Valentine's Day
   2025



Caroline Shank
2.14..2025

I am not a kind person

At times
I trickle interest in what
you are saying.

Mostly
I wait for
noon on a hot
day.

The breath of a
thousand words
cannot reach

the craters of
stones dug
without care.

I am not a kind person.

Where you were,
dying,
it was
the nurses who
compassioned you.

My reflection was
hidden in the
still pool of your and

leaving brown eyes.

I reek with sadness,
with the
penance of being

alone.



Caroline Shank
10.8.2022

Remember Me

Light is falling through the
Sleeves of my longing.

That's pretty good.  You
take me into the grotte
of imagination.  You

Nudge me
And I grapple with the
silence of rhymes.

Long was the life
time spent in the

whorle of loving.

The verbs I write
at all in the shadow where
my desk rests on the
faux brick wall are quiet

against the window curtain.

And I breathe.

Not all poetry calls you to
me as Sara writes. It's
the literature of my life

as I walk alone on the
beach where we stood

and Kissed that last
Night

The waves off Sarasota
splashed against us

The gulls screeched.

Taps sounded in the
night’s wind..

And I am fragile. I
sleep late and stay
out of the sun.

You may remember my
face.  

My stumble.

The last morning of

the

World.


Caroline Shank
February 12, 2025

Whispers

She whispers in his ear
of the love grown so long
out of the shelter.  

She says
how much she loves him.

He hears the
trumpets,

God's voice.



Caroline Shank
2.6.2025

Who are you to take my
Life
between
your drive to
change the landscape?

Do you unholy man seek to
save me? Are you constant
and believing in the Rightness

of your sanctimony?

For What is your Purpose?

You misunderstand my wrath.

Not in this world are you

Anymore

The mute destructive act
was not from caring sprung.

But

from the tongue you spit
Out

the ordinance

of my destruction.


Be out of my Poetry

Forever.

Forgotten



Caroline Shank
January 29, 2025