This is a poem
only because
you deem it worthy.  

Without your gaze,
amenable and open,
it is a line broken
in erratic fashion –
a skeleton
awkward, unbecoming.

You take my common words
upon your clement tongue
curiously tasting every emotion
compassionate, kind,
with your all-consuming spirit.

You magnolious stranger
with the soul of a friend,
we may never know
each other’s life or pain;
unable to console
or hug
or even wave hello.
But you paint my sparse canvas
with so many inimitable layers,
your perspective,  
your experience,
your empathy,
and the brightest color –
imagination.

This is a poem
only because
you see it as one.

Soon, almost, tomorrow, maybe, later
are polite ways of saying no, never
Easy words I often use to cater
to persistent questions I don’t savour

I answer one query with a question
of my own. Before you know it, I change
the discourse with a subtle suggestion,
still manage to have a pleasant exchange.

I must confess though that secretly, I  
always harbour a faint hope that someone
will see through my feint and try to be sly
so we can tease and toy and have some fun.

Please pardon my disingenuous ploy;
my ennui struck heart enjoys being coy.

We call them heroes, send them to fight
armed with plastic armor, much extolled valor.
They are isolated inside the veil of gratitude,
Drafted in a terrible war they never asked for.

We call them heroes, our robust knights
who will slay the beast, shield us from its fury.
We try to forget the open secret that they were,
in fact, robbed of a choice, ****** into glory.

We call them heroes without ever knowing
the face behind their masks and elastic bands.
These worrisome times will come to pass;
meanwhile, we stay inside and wash our hands.

Scratch-scratch-scratch the effing itch;
today, I really need to wash my hair.
Dry shampoo does little to tame the twitch,
scratch-scratch-scratch the effing itch.
No plans mean no washing days to switch –
it’s not like I am going to go anywhere.
Scratch-scratch-scratch the effing itch.
Today, I really need to wash my hair.

I wish you would come
to see me. Only, I am
glad that you haven’t.
I have some healing to do.
I have some blooming to do.