I'm jealous of your pen.
Jealous of the way your hands will never caress my skin like you hold it.
Jealous of the way you won't ever twirl me on a wooden dance floor like you spin it.

I'm jealous of your tie.
Jealous of the way it wraps around your neck, a place my arms will never be.
Jealous of how nothing separates it from your skin except a shirt, but I have red tape cuffing my hands behind my back when I want nothing more than to let them roam beneath the collar of your blue-striped button down.

I'm jealous of your ears.
Jealous of the words they get to hear when mine aren't around to listen.
Jealous of the way they get to hear i love you spill over and over again from your pillowy lips, the same lips that form into a smirk after you tell a joke and make me feel like the most important person in the world.

I'm jealous of the way you make me feel.
Jealous, because, I'll never make you feel that way, too.

Thank you, my friend;
         for reaching out
into the night
for seeing me through
into morning's light
         a little flash
of my phone light
Thank you, friend
      for letting me know I am seen
for letting me know
       how much I mean
for communicating,
    across the wires
how much I'm dear,
         that I'm desired
This means more sometimes,
       than one could ever know
especially when your very bed
has become an ice floe
especially when the one
who is supposed to warm you
embrace who you are
and enjoy, not ignore you
who is supposed to ignite you
with kisses
keep your body hot  
is next to you, but really not
I can extend my hand
and hope to tease
Instead draw it back,
      shocked by the freeze
For the sheets have become icy
arctic winds howl
my cat could be a seal
or polar bear on the prowl
the breath from your snore
rises up as steam
for it is so **** cold
in this iced-over scene
I'm so sick and tired
of this gelid room
So weary of my heart
being pierced by harpoons
I have tried to work my magic
apply balms to the scars
to prevent the ceiling
from growing icicle shards
And my bedroom is shaken
like some chaotic snow globe
moved by invisible hands
that search and probe
for now I am an ice princess warrior
with my map unfurled
researching ways to flee this frozen world
The kayak is ready
as I set my sights
        on warmer tundras
as I weave my lightening
and spread
          my thunder

Waking breath ghostly frozen, clang of ***-belly stove opening, cedar crackles good morning, sap sizzles, pops, melting.  Warmth finds children sleeping, humid air, mouth-breathing.  Smell of boy sweat and feet, young women ripely sweet.  

Cats purring, stirring, padding quiet down stairs, weave meowing through mom's legs.  Dented percolator burbles better days, snap of toast burned haze, molten mush bubbles burst, fade.  Birds early on the highway Paradise-seeking, time, flash-burned, fleeting. Cobalt jay mockingly complains, chickadee sings his own name, coyote wails, thin and plain.  

Children rise, sleep in their eyes, squabble over bathroom prize, eldest wins, click, locks herself in.  Hurry, hurry the bus is coming, ancient driver, annoyed and honking.  Brown-bag lunches crinkled running, feet slapping, seats squeaking, lungs hot and bursting.  Ride the dawn breaking, hearts aching for more than this, rural bliss.

Stop sign flashes caution, young lovers in the back seat, bodies in motion.  Stop, start, sway on down the highway. Engine mimics hot blood lust, accelerated diesel rush, nothing can stop us. You grab my knee - young, carefree.  Brakes sigh and hiss, sneak one last kiss. You mouth - meet me later, we'll sneak out, rush to a future we haven't got, ready or not.  

The old road at dusk, frog song accompanies us, bike wheels on the asphalt hum, forbidden moonlight run.  Feel your heartbeat on my spine, frantic drumming matching mine. Horned owl hoots, forlorn and bleak, a premonition we refuse to heed, reckless with need. In the clearing young love begins, forget-me-knots on burning skin.