does it matter that the morning sky
shades the deepening purple of a bruise,
the dark hue I saw in her eyes
just before she knocked me to the floor?
does it matter that I think the moment beautiful
when the clouds lower to cover night’s regret,
the sigh she would follow with a kiss
before she told me that nothing really happened?
does it matter that I do not care for the sun’s bright light
because she threw me into the shadows?
it does not, not at all.
I was born in the darkest hour.
from behind the grey steel bars he gave his heart to the sky
untethered without any strings not even the faint thread of hope
it burned there for a time brighter than the atomic sun
shining with all the many dreams he gathered
the stories we told him the lives we wished for our children
like him with no official warning-
though we all knew this would happen
it died with one final burst of light
the soldier’s bullet that passed through it
cried in futile sorrow as it fell to earth
the tattered shreds of our destroyed future
drift through the clouds
first breath when I open my eyes
so bitter I gag to spit out the detritus
night caught in my throat, all I dragged up from the midden
mouth coated with ash, nose with rot, fingers with slime
sleep a visit to the charnel house, waking hours a walking pyre
I constantly shed charcoal shards, a neglected trail of blackened bone
Our shoes have scuffed toes and worn heels
From walking on discarded dreams
That litter busy streets, forgotten alleys, and crumbling backways.
Our fingers grow dusty as we trail them absentmindedly
Through everyday grimy hopes
That line staircases, windowsills, and kitchen tables in rented rooms.
We do not even notice the ashes in the air,
For we have grown so used to smoke and the odor of burning down.
This is how we live.
And yet. I can see the tears in your eyes.
Among seconds lightly
Weightless without linger
Slip into between
No more here
Not ever there
Not be missed
Nor noticed gone
Having never been
Except I was and am
Does it matter
No and no and no
throw ourselves fully into the days
fill ourselves with every gaze
no fear of what’s to come
each moment the only one
love does not depart a tide
one leap enough to be alive
though not here we never leave
one breath all we have to breathe
giving all gains forever
one note a symphony everlasting
Outside, my tears will freeze.
Why not do this?
Bejewel my face with sorrow,
Diamantine drops fissured with loss,
Gauzy breath a mourning veil,
White with the purity of grief.
Frigid winter honors anguish,
Its elegiacal landscape befitting bereavement.
I bow my head in thanks,
And glittering gems fall to the ground.
the day begins.
tears before I’m awake,
the absence of you an ache,
still I rise and open the door,
knowing that the day will greet me
if I allow it, and so I do.
this morning I saw treetops on the ridge
shine in golden glory within the early dawn,
a brief bright exultance in the winter’s gloom,
and thought, “this. this is enough.”
once I would have demanded more,
before you and the knowledge
that love is also a sudden flash of radiance,
unexpected in brilliance and depth,
gone in an instant.
I learned to hold beauty lightly with an open heart:
dancing snow drifting smoke daggered moonlight
entwine around my fingers and fall from my outstretched hands.
Far too frigid too icy too slick
To step foot outside without extreme cause,
So no one gets to try the new recipe,
Not even the neighbor right next door.
Sip hot tea and desultorily play Scrabble,
Beating the bots by far too much.
More street noise than there should be,
And wonder if these cars’ drivers are driven
By necessity, bravado, or stupidity.
Some combination, most likely.
Heart hurts, and miss her miss her miss her.
In the early morning I walk,
The streets still and dark before sunrise,
The thud of footsteps audible as a heart beat,
The plume of breath clouding briefly.
I leave thoughts behind,
No need of them during this short journey,
And carry only grief as silent companion.
A poor substitute indeed, for she would run down the hill,
Fast and lithe as liquid joy, dancing until I caught up.
Grief slows me, this knowledge
That her dying body weighed so heavy.
Perhaps that was just the fall of my heart-
I had thought it hollowed- as it died with her.
I return to the warmth of the apartment,
And I am alone.
