i am a hopeless romantic
with suicidal antics
that cant seem to love herself

she cant seem to nudge herself
out of depressive episodes
but she has expressive goals
to fall in love

to call on love
for several favors
and she has several wagers
that "this one will be 'the one'"
that what ever is done
can be undone
and that she will be okay
because one day love will fix it all

she is a pathetic romantic
with an optimistic aesthetic
and a manic
personality

I don't miss people
I miss the parts of me I gave them

In the soft tinkling of the piano
I hear the gentle peace
of the meadow
and feel the breeze
tickling the hair on my arms.
In the coffee the rich warmth
and wisdom of my muse
trickles down my throat.
The noise of the day
switches off
reshaped into the fullness
and unbridled breadth
and splendor
of the universe.

for me
one for her
hers was glass filled with liquor
she mixed a powder
like Caribbean sand
out of cylinder tub
with the flick of her hand
into a plastic bottle for me
she mixed tequila with lime
it looked the color of ***
with the flick of her hand
and rubbed salt over the rim
we both guzzled the liquid down
the sky outside grew dim

Dance while you still can
Let the music whisk you in the air
Let your arms be wings
Fly, sway and swing
Dance without a care

Dance while you still can
Do the shimmy, be your own star
Feel the rhythm and the beat
Let the notes tickle your feet
Spin like Mars, forever stellar

Dance while you still can
Beat the blues and the grays
On your own or hold a hand
Dance while you still can
Dance while the music still plays

It's not the fault of the stars,
literature or my mother,
The vague statues
The crenelatted fringes
Of half remembered
conversation that rest
in my imagination .

I look for, in you,
the long shadows of
memory scrolled on
the sands of literature

This
poem,

These choices,
       unfold.

         Love

recapitulates.


Caroline. Shank
10.28.2023

For once
pale light is warm

the whistling wind
gentle

and even though
the air is cold

and the snow swirls
piling high along the curb


strings of lights
on shuttered storefronts

twinkle

and for 48 hours
all was never lost