Somewhere buried deep beneath your family albums,
Mother’s Day cards, embroidered pillow cases,
Canadian coins and high school yearbooks
there is a  hidden picture of you and  me
under the  limbs of a flowering Catalpa
tree.  It only sees light on uncommon
days when you are alone.

For the fourth time
since July 29

I watered your
Heinz 57

neglect again
count on being chained.

Until I lose my voice
and no one listens
the unsaid words of love
will accumulate
inside me,
and will appear on my face
like the flashes
from an electronic sign
whose bulbs have all blown
except for two or three
intermittently appearing
like a code
that no one but you
understands.

Until I lose my mind
with no one's help
the unthought thoughts
will accumulate
and be sacrificed
like my greatgrandfather,
an Isaac who wasn't spared.
And I, an Isaac who was,
was born under the sign of the ram,
to be sacrificed in other ways.

A thought provoking rage
boils beneath my bones.
The fury that spawns words
still choking behind fear.
I cradle my guilt.
I want to lash out,
exert my deviance & manipulate,
pull the strings of the puppets I create.
The strength in me is cruel.
I claw & pick my flesh
to distract myself from madness.
The kind queen feels dead inside
trampled by mistrust & abuse.
All of my fight withdraws to protect her
& leaves me frozen.
My kingdom at the mercy of men.
Will divided.
The desire to thrive
& the yearning to submit.

.
Another smirking moon,
I haven’t slept for two days
Thoughts of her, of us,
dreams I used to have,
visions of happiness
now faded nightmare images,
swirling in my head,
congesting my brain
I try, I pretend, I wrap my arms
around my pillow,
it's not the same,
not even ******* close
Rapid (open) eye movements
Tear stained cheeks,
(I can't stop crying)
wet sheets
"not the good kind",
tossing and turning,
kicking off the covers,
pulling them back,
missing her smile, her laugh, her
I stare at nothing,
bloodshot eyes reflecting
red LED numbers
blurred beyond midnight,
ticking slowly,
minute after minute after
minute of loneliness
Then, here it comes,
another worthless sunrise
Maybe someday
she’ll come back to me,
maybe someday
she'll love me again,
maybe someday
I’ll get some sleep

All day from the canyon
the wind birds hover
the dance of pines,
the free water.

The long grass that flows,
green seaweed of the river.
September's early leaves
paper, gold upon the water,
wild yellow petals.

The river's edge
shines with flowers, fully petaled
looking out upon the water
all day the blue, green, yellow of the water
all day until the red, gold of the evening sun.