I name you Pygmalion
because between
my skin and delusion
you have carved
an ivory woman. You
have carved her
with your eyes. But
for all your looking,
you can’t see, little
blind man, that
I have no need
of Aphrodite’s blessing.
In the strength
of my spine
and the flash
of my teeth
and the skill
of my hands, hands
you did not hew,
I hum with
power, ferociously
alive.
The only thing of mine
you will ever be king of,
King Pygmalion,
is the likeness
you sculpt
in your dreams.

What did you see
When you looked at me
With your black eyes endlessly stern
        and full of contempt,
A gift from your father
Engraved with cheerless words
And he would light a cigarette and
        pat your head in the kitchen
                a thousand years ago --

You dove into silence, the first of many,
Staring at the stove where dinner
        burned its way into oblivion;
You swallowed the room
                All of it
And now you cannot breathe
Undress
Overthrow
Or comprehend the gestures of love --

What did you see
When you looked at me?

This dream
Unafraid
Sits close to me
      on slumber's bench
Our shoulders touch
One of us ephemeral
One bound to finity
Seeking answers
      in the other

Look down
Look down
The purple crocus sings

      Here I am --

Truth was a breath
of cold November air
Escaping from her soft lips
Truth was warm
a breath of purpose
A spoken word
Tasting sweet nuance
A fresh, crisp blow
of season's new flair
Something so subtle
yet undoubtedly alive.

I ride waves
deeply unaware
of how long.
I ride waves
afraid to face
what will wash
up from the sea.
I dive in slowly
As if seconds
last forever
but in just minutes
I’m face to face
with the silent ticks
of each gone hour.

I break myself with each line
I write because I can’t make
pain rhyme with happiness

This morning,
I’ve shed the heaviest tear
after twenty-one years
of deadly silence