Friday, April 29, 2011

Unrequited Love

I miss you like clouds miss water …
                        Your soothing voice resonating in bittersweet memory
                                                Low and almost guttural, your speech calls to me
                                                                        Almost as much as your touch – devilish and tender –

All at once

These memories turn thoughts to fire once again
                        Fire that was never quenched by your water
                                                Never dulled by your intense presence or soft words
                                                                        But those same words set you adrift, floating away

On the lake

                        Nearly as smooth as your words
                                                But too glassy to accommodate your stare

                        And when you stared into my blue eyes
with those golden flecked earthen discs

I melted.

                        Like snow under sudden heat
                                                Like peach vanilla from my Papa’s ice cream mixer

                        Your voice’s trembling was matched
                                                By the tremors of my frame as I followed your gaze.

So now – what to do?
                        The will is weak
                        No more patience to seek
                                                Every relationship incomplete
                                                Twisty vortex to everyone that I meet
                                                                        My mind searches for escape in alternate realities
                                                                        As twisted tyrants and gossips distort my eventualities
                                    Until one day, when maybe, no longer seeking your presence, I will find
                                    Some way to cope with the reality, never rosy in my sphere, towards love once again inclined.          

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Not Whole: A Poem About Numbers

Not whole,
Wasting away …

            In this series
            Of fives
            Behind which
            The two through eights

                                    What to do
                                    But try to fix?
                                    And meddle
                                    And TWIST
                                    And subvert
                                    And move

                                               The ‘immovable’ from Five to Six …
                                                Seven Tethered to the Eight
                                                Because she cannot
                                                Climb very easily alone;
                                                She rolls.
                                                She comes in on horseback
                                                Or her highness, the eight,
                                                must be ROLLED up the hill.

                                                                        And, as always,
                                                                        Almost against her will
                                                                        The Nine shows up
                                                                        To a spectacle of
                                                                        Numbers gone wrong
                                                                        Through sloth and waste,
                                                                        Inefficiency and haste
                                                                        She sweeps the ashes, still combustible,
                                                                        And jars them, till numbers become capable.