My lovely marigold,
With orange blooms,
In the mist of summer
I found you, hiding
Beneath the shade
Of a great oak
As the waves of wind
Spoke in sonnets
And stirred the tall grass.

It was so easy to find you then.
But now you hide
Beneath cold stones,
Letting your roots grow
Without me.

Still, I’ll wait
Against the trunk
Until sunset
Falls asleep to the breeze,
Hoping to wake
Curled in your arms
While the last stars
Flicker above.

Amor mío, mi alma
fuera de mi cuerpo,
te sientes como el
sol mañanero
tras una noche oscura,
tormentada.

Tu sonrisa
se asoma en tus ojos,
tu perfume se arrastra
por la almohada,
se queda pegado
como chicle.

Cuando me despierto
y no estás a mi lado,
me comeré las migajas
de ti
con una taza de café.

Muchos no entenderán
cuánto te anhelo,
desafiantes,
contra una
corriente.

Be careful
when you decide
to sit down and rest.
You might take too long
and the sadness
might not leave.

No one’s here
to lend a hand,
so keep an eye
on the oil in your car,
the way your teeth
are falling apart.

Tend to your hurt.
Cradle it
rock it to sleep
against your
beating heart.

Drum your pooling blood
onto the page.
Write life.
Rest.

But please be careful,
the world keeps going,
even after death.

I’m at a new place,
with new people,
new opportunities.

In a shed, taking a 15,
I sit on a roll of wire.
I’m not fully here today.

The months go by
the days, the hours
I barely feel them anymore
as I zone out
into the open insulation.

My socks are wet from watering.
When should I get up?

Colorful pants walks in.
Distracted eyes sit down.

Long walks
out into the wilderness
I’m not ready for conversation,
too tired today.

sunshine through the blinds
light almost 24/7
a strange time called Summer
-a long drawn out affair
further north than Moscow.

There’s a new black cat
Running around my
Apartment complex,
Where has it been?

My mind murmurs,
As the cat yawns
By the street light,
Distracted, as if it
Know I’m watching.

I turn on
My cigarette from
The filter,
A subtle sacrifice
Slipping through
My fingers,

The cat is no
Longer here.
It’s gone.
The night swallows
It silhouette
In silence.
Maybe it was never
Meant to stay.

I sit a while,
As everything slips,
The smoke,
The silence,
The cat,

Even memories
Have soft edges now,
Faces blur,
The color of eyes,
Smiles and
laughs.

Like breath on a mirror,
Vanishing before the
Night turns old.

Still, I wait a little
Longer just in case
It comes back.

I hope to stand,
a few years from now,
where I once stood
frowning,
growing old
and reliable,
able to walk
on my own two feet
without flinching
at the rot of memory.

I hope the wind
still carries a tune
and maybe the smell
Of jasmine,

And somehow,
some way,
I’ll see my reflection
not just in tinted windows,
or puddles that ripple
with passing cars
but in the steady gaze
of someone kind,
quiet,
willing to stay.

Maybe, just maybe,
I’ll be wise enough
to see myself
in the tired eyes
of a stranger,
or the half smile
of someone I used to be.

And I’ll sit beside him
on a park bench
or a broken curb
Or the bridge above
The high way
Glaring at headlights,
and tell him

everything will be okay.
Not perfect.
Not painless.
But okay.