She places her book, marked with
a coupon I've been meaning to use,
on the nightstand. She turns the light
out on her side. It's her side, her light.
The left side is mine.

Night.

Night.

We're past clutching love. We're
not married, but I think I know
what it means. It's two lonely
people; it's two sides of the bed.
It doesn't take her long to fall asleep.
I watch her forehead unwrinkle.
I listen as her inhales and exhales
become spaced and even. At this moment,
I do not know her. She's not a woman.
All the inviting curves collapse. She is
a girl breathing in, breathing out.

In a memory she related to me--I think
she related to me--she asks a boy to give her
a turn on a swing. It's toward the end of recess.
She has waited. He says no. This is my swing.
She says it is the school's. He says the school
isn't sitting in it. I can almost remember why
she told me this story or some story like it.

I can't sleep without my fan on. She can't
fall asleep with it. I'll give her a couple more
minutes. I wonder what violence she dreams
of, of what forbidden ecstasy she views in
her private night. I do not know her. She
looks vulnerable, her body now bent in an S shape,
facing away from me. Am I scared for her? Of her?
Still sleeping, she bunches up her comforter;
she brings it to her face. Maybe that's marriage: being
scared for and of.

I turn on the fan. She stirs.

I'm sorry. I'll turn it off.

You can leave it on.

I'll turn it off.

Leave it.

She pulls my arm under her neck.
She brings her bottom against my thighs.

Will you hold me? Just for a second.

I can hold you longer.

Just a second.

Creased lines in your cancer bed sheets
and red wine spills still remain
from that time you celebrated
your chemotherapy success.

Drug-blue cocktails were swapped
for beers from cans,
needles for straws and hospital-stock-
comfortable-armchairs for the advertised sofa in your part furnished floor.

Friends came with warm welcomes prepared
in the back of taxis coming from the city,
they came in wide eyed staring,
holding wine bottles remembering your once real wig of hair.

A resounding response to the crack below my feet was heard through the forest
The ice had broken under the weight of my foot
And I froze holding myself still as I stared at the wood

Wondering, "Where did that come from?" whispering
"Not an echo! there must be something within the trees
A light breeze could not displease the silence of that looming dark!"

I approached the trees, each a veil, bark by bark, forming
A shade to intimidate the night, lining the freedom of that frozen lake
With fear to cut through any heart, as I approach the trees

The edge, waiting for me, towering grim, counting the steps
Accusing, suspecting of my intent, and I fearing what will come
I draw towards the end, and it paints my heart a deeper black,

"Every end a means!" they say, their leaves a darker hue, all a shade,
The sky only murkier, blot fainted stars bleeding to shine on my icier day
Cold, my fingers, scared, my feet, moving forward, they ask for more

More! for passion! for the call! the trees, in unison, they call!
Quiet, they crack through the Winternight, claiming
"Yes! still alive!"

Finally! my foot strikes the lucid gray snow! and I meet my end

But, "Every means an end!" and the life that colors around me
reflects the sun,
bright and vivid,
a shining presence
encompassing my own

And, as the world of the human mind's intent frenzies, no relent,
still, to see the bird
teaching her next
to swirl through the air
is to see the gem amongst us

I have met my end, my journey is done,
I die here now, but I have seen the world,
I have taken it my own, and it has killed me

"Was it worth it?" I ask the trees, now silent somber black around.

baby in the crib, turns closed eyes into dream-light
young boy at the window, eyes on the calf
woman with the cow, flies milling around the eyes


1.
every morning, with a penchant for rising before his hour
           he stands, sees the calf at the wooden-fence
           watches with the fawn-coloured beauty of sea-shell heartbeat..
                              the rising-eye
while his sister, nearly a young-woman, washes dishes with eyeballs
                              out the tiny-window
           heifer passes by and he looks straight into eyes – gentle eyes –
                              soothes calamity

2.
in the cold morning on the farmstead, the baby curls in its warm-folds
     she chases off the flies from the horns
     and cleans gummed-openings
yet deity’s crown falls from splendour this day
      as moments devoured by need eventually bear witness
to warm dripping in the sand
the bowl is filled

                                           *(high-scale horror)

and the boy has seen it, too
he holds his arms round him to stop the wholesale-shaking.. bites down hard
     as his face contorts baleful.. in impotent-anger
     his silence bought decades ago.. in another life
no price on his shock
and the bird on the branch flies off.. glint-eyes on another branch

it’s that time once again: she takes the old-cow to town
they await her before nightfall
she never does return


3.
I’m begging you
        leave it be, this is how it is
go pick up the baby, please
(the baby won’t stop crying)




your fences, I’ll rip up your fences with your very own whip
while them wolves howl on and on
I got oppressive-time to suffer your unmatched-law in the crush-of-daylight
now, kindly.. get outta my face!







S T – 22 Jan 2014

The air was cold that night
Our breaths thick between us
Like the clouds forming above
I shivered, letting you draw me in
My skin burning hot from your touch
Raindrops fell around us
Making me ****, wincing in pain
As the droplets hit my arms
Sizzling and turning to steam
Discomfort and unease filled my mind
As I looked at you for the first time in a different way
But that smile that played on your lips just pushed it away
I placed my hand within yours
And it was as if I was shaking hands with the devil in disguise
I let you lead me down your path
Only to be left alone in the dark
I was not afraid
There were no tears pooling in my eyes
My pride fought hard to stay afloat
And now I'm just making my way down my own path
I just wish I knew then, what I know now