This morning a jet from the Air Force Base
Split the sky in two with a contrail
Set ablaze by the rising sun.
It cut a line across the clear blue sky
And disappeared beyond the far off mountains.
I watched it as those razor edges
Yielded to celestial winds
And began the transformation
Into wispy clouds across the heavens.
It wasn’t long until the jet’s invasion
Of the peaceful dawning of the day
Disappeared, and only I
Was witness to its transgression.
ljm

Tear stained pages
Tear stained pillows
The legacy of my love for you.
                    ljm

Turning the pages of Sunday’s paper,
eyes spilling tears upon reading
of the ambush killing of a local cop,
and  elsewhere, cops as killers,
the horror of the murders
of twenty angels and their guardians
at a small-town school,
people just having a holiday party,
going to a movie,
people attending church, for god’s sake.
I make my way to the sports section,
that fantasy-land of touchdowns,
home runs and slam dunks,
only to find stories of drunken outfielders
and homicidal/suicidal linebackers
wielding pistols
followed by a half-page ad
for the Guns and Gear store,
urging me to get in on the deals—
an assault rifle, only $649.99,
semi-automatic pistols from $319 to $549,
all the ammo a person could need
to shoot up a school, a theater, a mall, a business,
a synagogue or mosque or church,
even an army base.
My sorrow vinegars to frustration and anger,
that my letters to so-called representatives
must be written on thousand dollar bills
to even get a reading,
answered by a staffer’s reply that says nothing,
and, in the end, dear god,
I’m left with prayer and poetry,
the children of necessity, drowning in futility.

The moon’s still high In the dawning sky
And the streetlights cut the gloom.
I go for a walk and a mental talk
That sweeps my mind like a broom.

The desert air, to which none can compare
Banishes all thoughts of doom
I walk the street to an eager beat
Like a Bride on the way to her Groom.
ljm