The bull still stands
Out in our yard,
Snorting puffs of steam,
Posing in his threatening stance,
Muted but a little...

He and we
Now
Biding time.

A man's not safe,
Nor woman, either,
So long as this bull's out,
Free to move about
Unpenned.

This meeting of the mice
We hear about
To solve the the problem of the cat
Inspires us now...
To bell the cat...
To pen the bull....

Aye, there's the rub....
As who shall bell the cat,
And who shall pen the bull?

For  now, we go our quiet ways,
Eyes down
Still thinking,
Praying...some,
Contemplating penning up
The bull.

Tumbling-hair
              picker of buttercups
                                   violets
dandelions
And the big bullying daisies
                             through the field wonderful
with eyes a little sorry
Another comes
              also picking flowers

I promised myself
That if you were to drown
That I'd go down with you
That I would spare my dying breath
For one last second with you

But now
If he were to drown
I would fight to my last breath
To share it with him
To breathe together
To heal together
To live together
To love together

You were my summer love

Kisses in the bus loop
And sweaty palms in July

You were hope,
you were safe,
you were home

You were burdened by my transgressions

You were love,
you were love,
you were love

And when you slipped through the cracks
Of my cruel, violent hands
You were lost

it's three months later
and the tune of our love
still echoes through the labyrinth
of my prozac-poisoned cerebrum

it's the sound of rainy evenings
in whitewashed suburban neighborhoods
overwhelming me
as it ricochets off the cold stone

it's the ghost of your hand
holding mine so tight
and it feels like home
as I stand here alone

even as the symphony changes key
to red hair and bright blue eyes
the cadence of you
still rings in my mind

it was stale bubblegum
it was a bouquet of paper flowers
it was my favorite latte in a styrofoam coffee cup
and all it did was make my teeth ache