It's not pretty . . .
the longer we go without speaking the more like a doll you are
to me
a dimming figure in my mind
that I take out of a box
for pain
or entertainment
The truth
I remember only when I feel like being free
And I put my manikins away
Yours still draws or boils blood
when I lift its plastic hands
Your real hands harmlessly work far away
Do you have a manikin of me?
A face you remember to haunt you
plastic hands you lift to scratch or stroke your face?

my love leaks today
spilling out like scarlet drops
rolling over sorrows hills to find
a glass house to fill
a few tried to find
ways to go back
to a previous vessel
that broke to send them fleeing in return
to Me
But as your dark face arose before me
all I felt was a quiet disgust
And my drops of love sighed
"No bottled home for thee is found"
And their home must be my heart

and you said:  "I hope you like chocolate."



(sonnet  #MMMMMMCCCLI)


I've not had choclate, nor a taste, in pale
Excuse, for that in days, perhaps cuz hence
You called yourself that, and my hunger thence
Was only for whom stole aught else, t'avail
Me of:  just you.  And oh! how that detail
In lieu of packaged squares, eats me and sense
Out of both home and hearth, ne crumb to fence
The **** is't? yet smudges in betrayl.
Oh, Adrian!  There I must leave off.  Were--
What?  Savour ah, minutest crumbs, roll too
Across your tongue that darkest morsel your
Soul yields itself up to, and ah, foil to
Glint, crinkle, tease, nor but in silver tour
Hold lo, exquisite heights:  what's I love you?

17May17a

The last thing
he says he misses
showing me truth
and watching me change
well, maybe not change
He didn't see me change enough  
So when I feel I miss him
and His chocolate cake of kisses
Remind me . . .
what he misses is changing me
But what he MISSED was Me

To look at his plain, resting face
One sees a little of grace
But just a hint of expression . . .
Oh! What a change in complexion

Let me be broken today
So I can recollect myself and be whole again tomorrow.