Long ago the sun filled this old house with poetry
inspired by our laughter.
We stood right here
by the fireplace taking pictures
to wake memories and move our hearts
with reasons
to hold hands once again.

We are now alone inside these rooms
where our hearts
endure the stampede of dissolving laughter
and I find that I want the sun
to fill this old house again with poetry
that sails inside
all that we are.

Oh, if only sounds of laughter like magic
would fill our hearts with warmth
and we could be as trees
that feel the flowers around their roots
perhaps then,
we could leave these rooms.

Then we could remember the pictures
we took by the fireplace
like a brisk *****
to what is lost and forgotten
and wake memories
that once again
fill this old house
with poetry.

Demons are mocking us
Angels are compassioning us
Aliens are bewildered why these…
Are killing each other?

His eyes grew dark and distant
absolutely nothing wrong
He smiled without his eyes
how are you feeling?
nothing, numb, bored

Bracing each other, pushing
                                             out

Fearing the flatline, we find
one another, in the dark

Rubbing the blood back into his palms
he buries his breath in my clean hair
Counting down the seconds, we remember

Leaving the cold room, he asks
is it over now?