I waited up for days.
You never showed.
It was just one night
that, spent in waiting, glowed-
With an excitement that surety never brings.
Infallible as chain link in a fence,
anticipation, the woman’s best defence.
Protecting one from being a heroine ...
another from being a wench.
Your hand always plied with equal calm,
over papers and thoughts.
Discerning, determining nothing except for
the plausibility of another person's wants,
While petting your dog.
Or, taking up a cup.
If you hem, I stitch another plot
To meet the expectations of a world
I know you recognize as fraught.
Artifacts of collective truth are all we're ever promised.
Ah, to possess the patience of a Ruth, and the doubting of a Thomas.
And nothing is possession except these obsessions that coddle us, cradle to grave.
I'm sorry for nothing in this life, except the joy I could not save.
Expenditure is my appendage. Yours?
A flowering average thriving.
If stuck between heaven and the deep blue sea,
I have to say, "I'd rather be diving."
Grappling for the specifics of that hue,
the nature of that incandescent, unknown blue.
Seagulls scream at sun up
The fish are at a loss
A black cat scratches on the corner
Waiting for a man to cross,
who'll call bad luck his owner.