Category: poetry

I want to miss you in the rain

Seeing your face in the mirrored droplets of the downfall

So that I find you pictured everywhere I turn

Seeing your face in the puddled forms of the sidewalk

So that I change my step to not disturb your gaze

Seeing your face in the glistening windows of the storefronts

So that I pause to stare into your countenance

If I do this, then the grief that overcomes subsides

As there you are and there you and there you are.

Until I remember with the returning ache of solitude

That I never met you do not know you will never find you.

You never existed do not exist will not exist

There is only a walk in the rain

Once upon a time in my life,

I fled to a new city.

I knew no one; had no money; had no food.

I shivered alone in a desolate room;

Tried not to think; tried not to cry.

A knock on the door.

I opened it to find a stranger.

He stood careworn by age and whatever of life’s trials

Had brought him to this place.

He handed me a coffee can.

It contained a few eggs, some ground coffee, a packet of bacon.

“This is what I keep on hand for the last of the month.”

Stunned I thanked him. He left.

Then:

On my way to the refrigerator I tripped; dropped the can.

The eggs broke. I cried in despair.

I took the can; removed the coffee and bacon;

Picked out the shell fragments.

I cooked the eggs with the bacon;

Made coffee as best I could on the stove.

I knocked on several doors until I found my benefactor.

I explained what happened; asked him to share the food.

He accepted. We sat together;

Exchanged a few words while we ate.

Soon after I left the area but will never forget this.

How did he know?

I enter the ocean to rest,

Relinquishing my will to the undulating waves.

I close my eyes as I sink into the deep,

Going down, down, down.

My arms and legs stretch out starfish-like,

The flesh dissolving until only bones remain.

One by one they separate,

Each slowly drifting away into the reefs.

Gratefully I let any sense of self do likewise,

Spreading out in diaphanous filaments.

These too dissipate into the life of the sea.

No mourning. No loss. No revelation.

But know:

The salt currents carry within them our tears.

I find you climbing a tree,

Or perhaps an abandoned shrimp boat.

You often frequent both,

They being part of the lonely places,

The dark places shadowed by cypress and oak

Overhung with bearded moss.

You do not see me, of course.

I’m viewing you from years beyond,

To watch you play with serious mien

As you seek out favorite haunts.

Your friends are these swampy waterways,

The bayous and rivers that hid you away.

Even now from so great a distance,

I still hear your voice when I walk in the evening.

Where is the mercy I was promised?

You ask shout wail.

From whom should this come?

The emperor will not respond.

He’s taken up the search for his clothes,

A task that will lead him to strange lands.

He’ll learn that we are all naked regardless.

The various deities are likewise occupied.

They squabble over which

Is the almighty is the true is the only.

One day they’ll pause in amazement,

Seeing that each is a mirror image of the other, all.

They too stand stripped and bare.

Better then to tell your plight to a bird on a wire.

They’ll bestow upon you the benison of song

Catch your despair in their beak take wing into the sky

Drop it amongst the wisps of clouds then fly away.

You stare in wonder at the bands of color on the horizon

And begin your day with lighter heart.

Thus.

Death balances on the tip of my finger

Spinning and whirling in a macabre dance

Suddenly stopping the motion to appear as a spider

Spindly-legged redly-eyed attention fixed in a mortal stare

Slowly one limb lifts almost as if to point

I hold my trembling breath unsure uncertain uneasy

Distracted by a sudden noise turning my gaze

Then look back to find only a smear of gray ash

Still I ask myself you and all dire arachnids

Is now the time is now the time is now the time

The time is always now the time is always the time is

I walk down the shaded trail

And gather in my hands the strands of sunlight

That filter through the tangled branches of the trees.

I weave them into garlands and fling them into the air.

They land on passersby, the human, animal, and even avian.

Eyes glow briefly in unknowing wonder,

As they are gently draped in unseen light.

I smile to myself then stumble on a rock.

The rustle of leaves and the warble of birds

Follow me as I fall.

What you thought it was

I said it was not.

It was not a romance, nor a fling.

It had not even been a date.

Certainly not a relationship.

You claimed I had stolen your heart.

No.

Were I to take anyone’s heart,

This is how I would proceed:

I would smile with a hint of a snarl and very cold eyes.

Thus I give you warning. Best to heed it and run.

Ere you stay, I begin slowly.

Using my words as surgical tools

I eviscerate with sharpened terms,

Carving into the skin of your illusions

Until they hang in tatters from your chest.

I pause briefly to provide you

With another opportunity to flee.

When again you do not,

I begin the precise work of delineation,

To show the flawed outlines of this organ I did not take.

Foolish girl, to make such accusation.

Now you will lose it in earnest.

Since you chose this route, I offer no numbing agents

Delivered in honeyed tones.

Clinically I speak of how mistaken you’ve been,

Each description a cut that makes you gasp.

Eventually I lift into the air

The paltry beating thing and with disdain

Drop it into the bin of cliches, shopworn metaphors,

And hackneyed phrases that constitute cheap love.

I don’t even spare you a glance

As I step over your crumpled form on the floor.

Remember, my dear. You asked for this.

The story is told as a tragic tale of great love lost.

What if Eurydice had this planned in advance?

Perhaps she grew tired of his endless paeans and golden lyre.

His story of course was all about him,

A strutting man of privilege

Who bound her up in melodied chains

And then offered her to the world to see.

She found an escape.

(Snakes can be persuaded to cooperate, after all.

Certain serpents are said a fondness for honey.)

Carried by Charon across Acheron, the river of suffering,

She then made her way to Lethe,

There to drink and thus find peace in sweet oblivion.

Being the object of such trumpeted passion a burden

She could now discard and forget the life she had not chosen.

Then to her horror and dismay, he followed after her,

Seeking to reclaim his vaunted possession.

Seizing her last chance, she slipped away,

Knowing that in his hubris and pride, he would look over his shoulder

To make sure that his glory glittered back from her mirrored self.

And of course he did. They always do, don’t they?

Only to find her departing, but he could not forget

The brief glance of triumph he saw on her face.