(Obey)

And if you turn away
because there is no lesson here
I will hold my awkward bowl,
with all its cracked stars shining
Not that it was beautiful,
but that I found some order there...
.......although your fear is anyone's fear,
like an invisible veil between us all...and sometimes in private,
my kitchen, your kitchen,
my face, your face.

-- Anne Sexton, from "For John, Who Begs Me Not To Enquire Further"



Coffee --
That bitterness
The acid slick on the tongue

Bedraggled bones and
a refusal to meet
my eye

I am a necessary nuisance --
Like the grit you pick off
Your teeth
As if to say,
"Not enough."

Here we are
Struggling through dinners abroad,
Sorry cups stuttering as they are
being dragged along,
Your disappointment nipping at my heels

Stuttering couplets
and open books
Fighting spasms as I reach my arm
across state lines

Use your own judgement

Even in this space,
These long, white hallways,
We are trapped (together)

You think that I am imagining
this torment
That I will awaken
and shake you loose --
a selfish disturbance

I will cross the room
as a child,
wearing short, velvet dresses
and high socks
I will grow out of this
embarrassment

Encased and defeated

I am left to my own devices --
A purple placated vein
Twitching in the dark
I am not enough

blue duvet part deux

i am folded in this
dusty, old duvet

cast neatly in
messy piles of
aged cloth
and teeth

held dear and
useless

handed over thoughtlessly
for a dime,

a memory mishandled

Swell

...Yet when we came back, late,
from the hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
speak, and my eyes failed,
I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light,
the silence.
-- From The Wasteland, by T.S. Eliot



i called your name

a deaf response
from
the broken glass
all come to rest

shattered images

what can we bring forward
from borrowed love?

clenching our faces up
and worrying about
what is ours
what once
was not

what flesh can i clutch
from honest purposes?

i wandered
through grievances
and personal
price,
coming up in intervals
to glimpse a saviour's
face

-- but it is changing,
and hazy,
drowning
in the blue swell
of promise

Blue Duvet

There's not a whole lot
keeping
you and me
in between
the folds of these
dusty remains
building up
in little yellow houses

i will wait here
for you
winter coat and all