Memory
Into my life a bird of remembrance has flown
And I recall glass breaking on that day
I had to wash dishes alone for the first time
I actually enjoyed soaking my hands in the soapy lake
Of soggy scraps and lemon yellow bubbles
But I guess I did too good a job of venting
My emotions madly massaged every plate
And one cup couldn't take it slicing my thumb
In the hot cleansing water I couldn't feel
Any physical pain I just pressed to stop
The strange bright red liquid from streaming
Over the seemingly ready for frying freshly cut digit
Now I have an eagle shaped scar that reminds me
Whenever I take a shower or go swimming
I have been on my own and I'm still here
I have persevered and found a new hand to hold
I guess I will turn into a cloud
Maybe then you'll notice I float
Over the present of your presence
Or possibly a painting for sale
Featuring the childlike colors
Of elementary love I offer
Even better I'll be a vase
So I can live close to you
Watch you go through your day
No, I've got it, nothing bests
Being your bed, for I may get to
Touch your soft skin every night
Responses to Us
The plants think
we spend so much
time moving around.
The walls know
too many secrets
to speak, only crack.
The blankets revel
in their memories,
stories told in threads.
The sky sings out
a constant revelation,
if we simply listen.
We are their favorites.
They enjoy our drama,
turning to our eyes,
Which tell the whole
truth inside dreams,
poetry through the hours.
There is no more to say,
just that clouds are related
to the electricity of looks.
Break Time
I close the laptop
walk to the back room
my wife's office
plop onto the swivel chair
next to her
and lean backward
feel the heat of the sun
from the window
she strokes my hair
and I become good good good
glad that the fire
inside my heart
still
lights
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