At home, they sit across from each other
like a pair of stone-silent gargoyles, when
he sighs to himself as if with remorse.
Looking up, she asks, out of politeness,
“Is something wrong?” He shakes his head, and says,
embarrassed that he had spoken out loud,
“Oh, Nothing, just thinking, at least nothing
important enough to say: just thinking.”
They watch each other with a quiet calm
like the still center of a raging storm;
each happy enough at home not to stir
up any conversations to avoid.
Slowly, they fall into their silences,
starkly alone with their thoughts together.
(April 18, 2019)
from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress
At night a light
exposes one, opens
like a wound to bleed
out into the dark.
I want to stay
my secrets, to hold
my desires close
like a small flame.
It’s safe there, stitched
tight between muscle
and bone, waiting
to enkindle a better day.
(March 23, 2019)
Like flowers in a slow conversation’s
eddy, he floats through his circular day.
Nothing’s amiss. Almost, as memory,
the pattern persists; almost as if he
whispers to someone who listens nearby.
Each flower’s petals fall, by troubled turns,
until the air is not enough to hold
the incoherent world; and, like glass,
it shatters into the composting earth,
oblivious to its own slow demise.
The flower unfolds into its silence;
the swift flutter of bird song in the trees;
the rough caress of dry leaf on dry leaf;
the winter wind’s incessant pulse and pause;
are nothing to his flower’s petal’s fall.
(March 20, 2019)
“..truth is often nothing more than meaning”
—Trinh T. Minh-ha
what can I say,
I’m just talking,
what I mean?
I imagine you
I hear what
what I mean?
(November 13, 2018)
Someone has already been here
Always, even if you are still
Unaware of her presence.
You are never alone, even
When you are alone, in awe
On a mountain cliff’s edge.
Someone has been here—
Even if only in imagination
Someone has been where you go.
Everyone you have met—
Everyone you have read—
Everyone, even the slightest touch
Has always already existed
Inside you now, and forever.
(October 26, 2018)
along all molecules’ edges
and between the atoms’ swirls
in the oxygenated blood
slipping beneath the skin
in all those words never said
and in the silences we hid within
(October 5, 2018)