When I was young
I didn't have any doctor bills
now I get statements
special delivery, envelopes
full of X-rays I hold up
to the moon, that rock
sinking deep in my gut
looking like all of those cold
feelings I've swallowed
the many curses held inside
wooden matches chewed twice
and not spat out, a cancer
like a two-headed speckled trout
swimming around
trying to find its way out
when in fact it's just a feeling
I get trying to swallow regrets
one rusty old fish hook at a time.

lately, all
of my
veils have
evaporated,

laying bare
once-hidden
vistas and
emotions,

leaving me
open and
vulnerable to
either being

loved by you,
or simply
vanishing into the
ether.

My father and my uncle
grew up on the streets
of Chicago, tough streets
for kids to roam.

Uncle Sal was a lanky guy,
with a Pork Pie hat and an
attitude, he took no ****,
but had a heart that was pure.

At nineteen Uncle Sal
died in Korea before he
lived for real. I still have the
Bronze Star they gave him.
A **** poor exchange for
a life unlived.

I never got to know Uncle Sal,
but I sure wish I had, maybe
even just a little bit.

he sees one on the branch of his oak,
the other on his picket fence

eight decades he's heard names
of these creatures

one that makes sad songs (though not
a song bird...)

the other known by its color
(not red robin...)

he opens the door and walks
toward them

as if removing distance will erase years
which purloined their names

they fly off, so many eons ahead of his species
which now lives long enough to forget its past

a breed of ape which worships words, and
dreads the loss of them

the mourning dove and cardinal need no
symbols to know to flee this beast

the mere sight of him evokes the
wisdom of the ages in them

wings flap, currents abide, they glide to
another spot to roost

while the old man curses himself for
unknowing their names--cursing and cursed
it seems, are not part of what is forgotten

"hello kate ," Jack delleto says and sits down.

"my name isn't kate. it's Kathleen.'" hello Dell. "sue thinks Dell is such a **** name. " what should I call you?"

"how about darling?'

she looks up from the whiskey glass "hello, Jack, DARLIN." her soft deep voice whispers.

Kathleen crosses her legs and the black dress rides up to the middle of her thigh.

Jack glances at the milky white flesh. she is drunk and Dell does not care. he leans forward, ''do you wanna dance ?

"but no one else is dancing."

"Well, we could go to the beach and take a walk on the sand.

"It's twenty degrees outside." she swallows the last of the whiskey. "we'll freeze."

"i' ll keep you warm."

"all right let's  dance."

"jack stands up and takes her by the hand. she rises and jack holds her close to him. jack feels her heart thumbing.

she rests her head on his shoulder. "what matters most to you?"

"not giving up."

"what's important to you?" he asks.

Kate lifts her head off his shoulder and looks into his eyes. "I don't want to be on welfare, and I want to be able to send my son to college." she rests her cheek against his. "I lived in foster care homes all my life and I always knew one day I'd have to leave. do you know the difference between a house and a home?"

Her voice is a roaring whisper in his ear. "love."


the song comes to an end. kate takes a cigarette from the pack.
jack strikes a match and the light flickers in her eyes. "maybe someday you'll have a home."

"do you want me to?" she leans forward and puts the cigarette to the flame.
    
"Yes."

Kate blows out the match.

he moves the pace of the river,
his home a houseboat

he eschews dry land, for that is where
they are all buried:

a wife, his only son, the anonymous victims
of his rifle's rabid rattle

whatever ghostly litany lives in the lapping of waves
against his hull remains mystery to him

on the water he'll stay, drifting downstream
until he reaches the sea

where he hopes he'll have no memory
of hard earth and tormenting souls