Once, the word was a whisper
carved into a cave wall
by a man who saw lightning
and wanted to marry it.
He did not know grammar,
but he knew:
****.
It is the sound a soul makes
when it remembers it left the stove on
in a past life.
It is a sneeze of truth,
a hiccup of the cosmos,
a four-letter eclipse
of reason and restraint.
“****,” says the poet,
when words betray him.
“****,” says the scientist,
when atoms refuse to behave.
It is the punctuation of panic,
the jazz note in an otherwise silent scream,
the laugh-track of God.
It means everything
when you don’t mean anything,
and it means nothing
when you feel everything.
It is both
the crime
and the confession.
The knock, the door, the absence of door.
So how do you write it?
You don’t.
You exhale it through clenched teeth
as you fall in love with a mistake.
You etch it into the back of a napkin
after three whiskeys and a revelation.
You scream it into a pillow
until the pillow understands.
Then you kiss it.
And never speak of it again.

I love when traffic flows like dreams –
said nobody ever, in rush hour screams.
And Mondays? A warm embrace.
Especially with deadlines breathing in your face.

“Please, more spam emails,” they plead with grace –
said nobody ever, not one trace.
I cherish the printer’s stubborn stall,
mid-report, mid-panic, down the hall.

Dishwater coffee, ambrosia divine –
said nobody ever, not even in line.
And meetings that could've been one line of text,
are truly the moments I cherish the next.

Oh joy, another group chat ping! –
said nobody ever, in the midst of a meeting.
There's nothing like socks lost in the wash,
or autocorrect turning love into squash.

But still we smile, and carry on,
with half-done mornings and the curtains drawn.
For life’s absurdities have a clever tether:
they’re oddly poetic - said nobody ever.

I

She exits herself on the
Sofa. Blanket, dog, and bits
Of a poem on a pad of paper

On the table, like a half-eaten
Piece of homework.
Shades of wine on her sleeping

Lips. Exits herself; space-walks
Outside that frame of mind she's
Been expected to hang herself

On the wall within; she knows
There is more.
There has to be more.

II

She has to be more.
Like so many writers, she falls
Asleep working. Sometimes

Works to fall asleep.
Digging her way through
Herself, mining for words,

Hacking away at painful pasts,
Gathering emerald experiences.  
Diamond doubts and ruby

Regrets all fuel her poetry.
And she reads, spotlight kissed;  
Audience adored,

Goosebump summoning; hairs
On arms and necks stand up as
She whispers directly to me.

About me. Because of me.
In front of everybody.
To music, and I've brought a box

Of pins, and between each of her
Every word, I drop one. And I
Swear to the gods, you can hear

Them all. Like the unsteady
Ticking of a clock too cool to
Care.

III

Poetry jewelry; set with stones
From her innermost. Chips of
Gold from her heart melted

Down to a key pendant she
Holds in her hand; chain dangling,
Eyes closed, forehead resting

Against a door she knows it is
Time to open. Key in one hand,
Pen in the other,

She
Enters
Herself.

When I was young
Before I felt foreign lips on mine
Cracked the spine of the good book
Saw myself in the mirror
I sat at the window and wished on stars
I wanted fairy wings
a big white horse
a new pair of shoes
Now I am older
Not old enough to whither in wet soil
Old enough to sign my name
To run from large men
To billow smoke
Older still every day
Until there is no older left to be
Until there are no stars left
And shoes don’t run
And horses are too high to reach

Dawn breaks, too early, a hollow sound,
My sleep undone, on restless ground.
Your absence echoes, a constant ache,
Each waking moment, for your sake.

I tried to push, to feel the cold,
Of silence given, a story told.
But fear outweighs, a lonely dread,
That you are lost, words left unsaid.

Your Whispered Truths, I hold them tight,
Against the shadows of the night.
My mind spins tales, of what might be,
Then trust prevails, you'll come to me.

Our pasts entwined, a fragile grace,
A bond we formed, in time and space.
A reason hides, behind the veil,
Let not that reason, make us fail.

You are my world, my beating core,
Without your light, I'm nothing more.
A fading breath, a darkened sky,
A broken heart, where dreams all die.

I seek to lift, to bring you cheer,
But distance breeds, a rising fear.
My words descend, to somber tone,
A heavy weight, I bear alone.

My love persists, a burning flame,
This ride we share, beyond all blame.
First touch, first kiss, a future bright,
Awaits us still, in morning's light.

I'll wait, I'll write, I'll hold you near,
Until you speak, and banish fear.
Please, let me know, what holds you fast,
Let this dark silence, be the last.

Each day a letter, sent with care,
A silent plea, upon the air.
If you desire, I'll walk away,
Just speak the word, and end this day.