on the day of the funeral

a caramel cake for you.
made just the way Granny taught me.

burn the sugar
until you’re sure it’s ruined,
stir the smoking, sputtering liquid
into sweet buttery cream, then
spoon over split layers of
golden cake.

as friends come
to sit with you
in your raw, fresh grief
and to remember,

share with them a cup
of strong hot coffee
and a taste of this,

rich and dark
and sweet.

collecting freckles

Collecting freckles
 at the shore,
 wind and spray
 play wild in my hair.

I mark miles of sand
 with a barefoot rule
 to the cooling caress
 of ocean foam
 and reflect
 in the light
 of a blazing sun.

I search the horizon...

the sky...

the sea...

until a fresh perspective
 finds me.

Unburdened
 by this quiet gift,
 I am content
 to turn toward home.








2009

dark wings

There is a hole

in my house where

the wasp crawls in

again and again

I spend

countless hours

catching it up

in an empty glass

to let it fly free

in the garden

but it never

fails to

return

even so

I cannot bring

myself to crush

its

glossy

delicate

menace

.

Linked into Open Link Night at dVerse - Poet's Pub. Go check it out!

opened

now the dam is broken

after years of tireless service

protecting natural waterways from more

than they should handle

according to someone's estimation.

now the river may run swift again,

may sometimes flood its banks,

and the dead and dry will rise up green

in lush and tameless life.

now the stream may sing once more

its trickle ripple song,

and the forgotten pond may be reborn

a silent, sacred refuge.

but I did not foresee the power

of too much too long held

when finally loosed.

all is uprooted,

overturned,

and churned

in the fury of this flood.

how long until the waters settle?

what will then remain?

some say I must have lost my mind.

I fear I may have found it.

tag-a-long

there is a cold dark in my chest
where once a fountain poured
forth fire, now a frozen...

    wait

    this is not my demon!

where'd you come from little fella?

here,

check his tag for a phone number.

(A favorite from the archives.)

negative space

I keep hidden
deep
beyond the bottom
of my heart,
in a place
that does not exist,
a singular Nothing,
the presence of which
no longer causes grief
or pain.
No sense of loss,
no suffering remain,
at least that you might notice,
but behind every thought,
between each breath,
I am keenly aware
of this hollowness,
this empty space

which is not there.


.
 

wounded

dark thread
taut and long
lifted high
knot then snip
press with gauze
again

close to my ear
he speaks in rhythm

the deeper tissue
pull 
will take more time
to fully heal
tug 

when the outer skin
has closed up nicely
(there will be a scar)
and appears completely
recovered
knot
for some time yet
the deepest part
can easily be torn
snip
reopened
gauze
requiring many months
more
to complete
the cycle of healing

pull 

tug 

yes
I nod

knot

snip

understanding
too well


~


(Participating in this week's One Shot Poetry Wednesday. Check it out.)