Litany of livestock
Bolting for the trees
And you, my shallow fellow,
Now prostrate on your knees.
Constricted conversation,
Leaves a muteness in the air
But a cognisance of attraction
To the company and flair.
There's a quiet appreciation
Of the feather and the fur
But the fact you held your ****** tongue
Means it's a credit to you, Sir.
For the power of rank opinion
Holds more menace than a gun
And the less that's said, in hindsight,
Means in parting ways... it's fun.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ

Pelting rain adheres to soil
As spiders sprint and earthworms roil,
World in turmoil stinkbugs, stink
And Satan beetles disgorge ink
But thee, my budding, sodden flea,
Hath entertained quiescent....me.
M.

your presence lingers
not in grand gestures
but in the spaces in between

your smile filling my kitchen
with a warmth that remained
long after the coffee grew cold
and my cup was empty

the place still set for you,
as if you would walk in, sit down,
and make everything
feel a little more whole

the way we spoke on the subway
our words mingling like passengers
clinging to the rails
never quite ready to part ways

the way things look too clean…too still
not just your toothbrush
but the mess you made of my heart
gone

how lovely it was
to have your things scattered among mine
a forgotten sock
your glasses on the nightstand
a sign this space was ours
once

the scent of your shampoo hovers
an echo of you in the quiet
I breathe you in, eyes closed
wishing you were here
to wrap the night around us
turning off the world together
leaving only us
together in the stillness