1. The sweet man lying in bed
stands 6 feet tall during his day.
He cannot hear the guitar
singing in the next room (There are places in my life).
He cannot feel his Labrador
pressed against his side
(or his beard scratching his face).
His feel are killing him slowly with the pain,
he rests soundly.
I cannot hear his heart beating, but it is
in rhythm with the twinkling stars
above us tonight...
I love this man
and maybe one day
I will be able to tell him
(perhaps in the damp, cold duck blind).
2. Tonight, my poor father weeps for his wife.
His tears soak the pillows and sheets
and are fresh with sadness.
No time has passed for him in these three years.
He still sees her powdering her nose; slipping into
her satin nightgown.
Tonight, a family is eating dinner and the two
siblings are arguing over the last piece of bread.
Somewhere, a drunkard stumbles out of a
bar and vomits into a stained, metal trash can.
As he lifts his head, he sees a morsel of
bread and eats--finally regaining hunger
that was lost years ago.
The melancholy moon is bright tonight.
The leaves and grass are frosted; the chickadee
is in her nest warming her chicks.
If you listen, you can hear his wail;
crying for years past,
and frustrations ahead.
He will weep always.
- ► 2017 (91)
- ► 2006 (17)
- two fathers
- I did not appreciate her until I left. I did not k...
- The Candle's Flame
- A shower in the summertime
- The pillar supports its building, withstanding the...
- The Tempest
- The mute sits under a tree drinking her tea as the...
- born to catch butterflies on her tongue
- Running toward the blackened horizon, the sky is n...
- Her white skin, pure, soft, lightens the night. Br...
- Mother's Ashes
- a letter
- Tonight, my mind meandersthrough the pages of my s...
- Lying face down in the grass, my face is moist. De...
- With ebony hair, black skin offsets tight, dark cu...
- Laurel, MT
- watching my mother in the morning
- For Claire
- The sun will rise over an array of houses, spread...
- If I look closely, with my head pressed to the ...
- The softness of every summer night, for the rest ...
- late one night
- Rain begins to fall. I hold her in my arms. The...
- C'est la vie
- ▼ February (29)