A Fading Shrew

When the inner voice

is a shrew,

and the feeling of

unrepentant malaise

encourages circling…

 

When walking is

a cacophony of body parts

in deep protest

against a mind so

befuddled, making life

more difficult and more vibrant

and making mistakes

with every step…

 

When burdens become

heavy like the alone,

there’s nothing left

and it’s frighteningly

simple to fade.

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Sultry peepers

took over the night

and I opened

all I had

to take in the sound.

Closer to Fifty

It was such a large earthworm, I wondered

if I could fry it and pass it off as dinner.

Would they notice?

After selecting tethered bananas

in a darkened produce aisle,

I tried to find milk of happiness

but tripped over a granola display

and cursed the penny thoughts

that led me to rub myself raw later.

(He is a bemused muse, that’s all I can say.)

 

When the rain slows down traffic

when it’s colder again

when I want a cookie or kiss

when I’m free and alive,

it’s time to go home.

 

Handling chicken parts, thinking of sacrifices

knowing both require a side of potatoes.

Will we be happy?

When one hole opens, a window closes

or something like that.

Galactic Fervor

The light hung in an embrace of cloud.

He watched the squirrel.

She laughed with the leaves.

 

The valley swallowed half sentences.

Jokes would never be finished.

Love songs became questions.

 

When he spoke, it wasn’t about the spaceship or a myriad colors of skin he’d tasted. He thought about the soft bristles of his toothbrush and wished she would brush her tongue along his teeth when they kissed. What he actually asked was, “Have you been to Switzerland?”

She knew his thoughts as she knew a storm was coming, like a faint ache from an injury that hadn’t yet happened. She felt the cold rush of air from the Alps without ever leaving his arms. She had an irresistible urge to lick his smile.

Shapes of clouds became muddled, fading into sky so it became hard to determine their edges. She watched their hands intertwine and realized she could only feel warmth, and without looking, couldn’t tell where one began or ended. She wondered if this was the beginning of madness.

Projections of grand emotion echoed in private places. There was an ever-present threat of avalanche. Phantom objectifications rested in their gaze. Ship-to-ground sparks made a delightful ricochet. They weren’t sure if they spoke or if message-bearing supersonic waves were being generated by their touch.

 

Love became the same as a laugh.

Stories would change with the sun.

The river gave life to a dream.

 

She said she liked licorice.

He admitted envying plastic.

The light escaped to cover them modestly.

Blooming in snow 

It was late

in the dark

with no moon

.

A breeze

moved us

to dance