Rest Easy

The day the seat
beside me
bowed beneath your weight
was the day
my mind bowed
to the weight of my heart.

Photograph.

Do you remember
when you were behind the lens
and you took a snapshot
of a pair
trees behind, and wood underneath
limbs bent awkwardly
around one another
faces contorted in bemused expressions
not ready for your eagerness
and you separated
the white from the black
Did you look at the scene
laid out before you
my hair across my eyes
the imperfect embrace
and think
If that were me
If that were me.
Did you wish back then
to be in front of the lens
that covered your face
to be behind
the hair that covered my eyes?

The Kind

made myself a mask of stone
a lover for the heart of glassreprieve from lessons pastinbred cynical, I tend tokeep the curtains drawn to mask theorange light, the dawn ofstorybooks and fairy-talesmade real somehowillicit wants rehashed, reborntraversing the valley of the dolls forstrange times with stranger strangers and then...
crushed velvet sheetshot and flourishing as therain outside, the kindinked under my skinsweet nothings across pillowstwo lovers whispering secrets, the kindonly they can hearpretending their voices arehurricanes, thick and fastelongated shapes curled into oneromantic love, the kind that dies
bed linen dresses, that burning silkeventually, unfortunatelyalways ends with bloodshot eyes andviolent cries
only maybe, who knows, this timenever knowing, if it's never ending

The Morbid Haiku

Death becomes them now
The night is silent and calm
I'm alone at last

With the pools of blood
lapping underneath my feet
my fingers stained red

Those with broken hearts
and ruined dreams with no hope
They are not without

Feet First

Unable to ignore the call
from the wild
from an unknown voice

some mystery siren song

calling me deep
into the dark
without a stick to prod

the muddy surface

I go blindly
following the
enigmatic shepherd

whose cane taps at empty spaces

Keeping the foxes at bay
from the bloodied cuts
on my ankles

by running faster down the hills

with no time
to smell the roses
An upturned beetle

legs exposed