She left me with nothing but math.

Bedroom walls miscalculated
to the color of a bruised plum.

Moonwhite sheets tangled
into isolated geometries.

Her pillow, the sum
of broken equations.

Moonlight proves
distance by degrees:

light slanting
in the hallway,

the acute angles
of an open door.

Will the rain never stop?
I sigh
and hear the cat snoring
in her box
The room is breathing just enough
I sigh and listen to it
racing through the eves
my thoughts
are rain
My house --  too quiet for it
My life?
My Love?
I am too tired to be restless

Drifting in mosaic
Tea berry
green  grows
between rotting leaves and pine needles
Everything is rain
I never get to hold...

are farsighted? I’m splitting in two
in front of them, and still I can’t get
their attention. They walk over me like
I’m fallen leaves. I feel so used. I beg and

I plead for some relief. But they think it’s
my usual drama. So, I wear my steely armor
and smile. I’m not fooling anyone, least of all
myself. So, I hide in a bottle like a ship. And just like

the ship I can’t get out of the narrow
mouth. And there’s a cork at the head that won’t let
anything in. So, here I’m all alone by myself, which is
something I’m used to. And now since I’m split at the bow
I’ve no masts but two hulls.

you are star, you are moon,
a blur of white in the rounded night,

tranquil as the narrow streets at nocturne,
where the tall streetlight breathes

its half-moon yellows, love flowers
behind frosty windows; behind

avenues of dark stone and gothic
eaves the dust of the moon

starts to settle, weaves a golden web.