i’ve spent my life
thinking about people
who were not there
those whose love
came measured
in teaspoons
hidden in poems
please know
i didn’t write this for you
&
i’m taking my coffee black
this morning
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save everything you can
the house is a total loss
horses screaming caught
in my hair
choking ash
simmering iron
bits of
our children crying in the truck
the dogs are missing
barn roof’s fully engulfed
rafter pine pops
we run to claw open stall doors
as this year becomes a list
of things we lost in the fire
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perfunctory
we go through the motions
nods, hellos, & how are yous
eyes casting down not to impose
swallowed back into a mask that is saving humanity
but depriving us of dimples
a curl at the corner of a wink and a smile
warm creases telling jokes
knowing microexpressions
laugh lines
that dopamine rush of connectivity
that reminds us why
we fight to stay alive
what it is to be human
remember to look up
into my eyes
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left it standing
my fears are hidden at home in my onion knife
as I drink coffee that tastes like David Mamet
left it standing
downtown on a Tuesday morning
during a plague
somehow that proves
there are things I don’t regret
while we pretend to have enough choices left
the way a crumbling sidewalk shows us
dandelions will continue to grow
on the strength of their convictions
you wield the power
to piss me off like a teenager
even though most of my life has been
a series of photographs without you
where I’m pictured waiting to stop smiling
just as a neighbor’s car explodes outside
so when you walk into a party
grab my arm
& pull me off to the patio of congressional smokers
where sacred things are whispered between drags
be ready to explain why the music got louder
as we stepped through the door &
the poem you wrote into the shape of a gun
fired on my heart at point blank range
please understand
we’ve skipped over the part when
you get to offer me tea
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correct change
to quantify what 189,00 dead Americans
equates to within the psyche of this country
we must apply the correct math
due to lack of competent leadership within the White House
the COVID19 pandemic has been allowed to spread
across schools to cemeteries
into three Vietnams
or sixty-three
September the 11ths
Donald Trump should be made to place coins
from his own pocket
over the eyes of every corpse
he could have prevented &
perhaps the saddest notion is
even if the great king
cared to part with his shekels
our country will still be left
more bankrupt
from his mistakes
than him
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That’s my kid up there!
I’ve adopted
a son at work
who still lives at home
in my cubicle.
He has a shock of dark hair
that follows him like a storm cloud.
He teaches music.
He plays in a coupla bands.
He’s a good dad.
He borrows my nail polish
& asks me to braid
the nimbus of his hair.
He’s a badass rocker.
He has that ancient magic,
voodoo child guitarist,
maestro.
But the day he said
you’ve been a better mom to me
than my own,
because I offered to mail an envelope…
he became mine.
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pretty little things
there’s a girl downtown
gets passed around
she’s early twenties
but plays smaller
she hallucinates snakes
as demons prey on her
there’s a girl downtown
she walks around
bare from the waist down
hacks at her own hair
is fond of defecating on sidewalks
but the winos and scum
buy her pretty little things
so they don’t feel guilty
after
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water into wine
there are nights
I don’t give a damn
if Elvis ever sang anything
but Kentucky Rain
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goes without saying
i will never show anyone
what’s hiding
in this line of poetry
least of all you
who need not read it
as you stand wishing you had something to smoke
on the back porch
of my existence
