watching the lake
swallow a spring sun—
her crimson lips
campfire…
the summer stars in her eyes
warm me up
maple leaves
falling all around us—
we stop holding hands
cold moon…
the twin size bed creaks
under our bodies
Jan/Feb 2011 issue of Sketchbook
A Room of My Own: Normal Life, A Soap Bubble
-
my friend turns
forty the age his father died
he mutters
*the Grim Reaper haunts me*
*like my walking shadow*
breaking news
at the first light of spring daw...