"I haven't bled."
She paused.

Now, two tests rest,
neatly packaged in friendly pink,
waiting to give their best guess -
baby or no baby?

Maybe it won't go too far,
turn into a "whew"
or a story to shake our heads to.

But if those little plastic
holders of destiny,
come up with two black lines, not one,
my blood will rush,
pulse against my skin's surface.
A little part of us destined for end,
for end,
for end.

Roused from sleep by the sound of sobbing,
I reached out for my sweet,
wondering over the wetness in her eyes.
Her cries filled the dark room
as she shook.
"His face, his face," she mutters into her hands.
That crook, that fiend,
that stain on society.
He is unconcerned, free, happy,
while she has terrors, anxiety.
I want to tell her that one day
he will get what's comin' to him,
that, inside, he knows he is ****,
that he will suffer in some way.
maybe today, maybe tomorrow,
maybe next year,

But then, my heart crumples in fear,
because there is no guarantee.
Instead I mumble.
"If we see him,
I will punch him in the face."
Violence with violence,
is there any other way?

Zoned in traffic,
alone with the greatest hits of the 90s,
going 25 when I want to be going 90.
It's a two way repeat most days of the week,
and an unfulfilling repeat at that.
Back-tracking would hardly remedy.

Peddling into old things.

The shades are drawn,
lights off, dark on,
projected documents fill the wall.
The staff, caught up, hinge on little things.
Big things to them
but I've checked out, far off,
wishing this time was with you,
sailing around the moon,
toasting champagne to stars,
far from the river of cars and exhaust
that I must swim
to be in your arms.

She ran,
clattering over the linoleum
which had been designed
to look like wood,
having just bolted from Asia's arms,
as if harm were imminent,
our intent evil-bent and cruel.
I reached out my hand,
trying to imbue tranquility
in my movements,
shrive any hostility.
When I brushed her head
her wide eyes —

they shook.

Staring straight in the the center
of a rose,
aroma drawing me closer,
the petals spread,
catching the light,
delight brightening my face.
The sight, the scent, are not enough,
I lean in
to have a taste.