Snapshot: Her Evening

How she spends an evening —

Her landlord’s kids have strewn the walk with toys;
She smiles as she steps around a trike.
She hears within a laughing, running noise,
The joy of children to the childlike:
And after some brief play, she’s off to hike
The longish stairs that lead her to her room.
She flips a switch to chase away the gloom

That never really leaves nor really stays
(Except when tears unbidden come at night)
But she is cheerful on the worst of days.
She pauses by the mirror at her sight
(The wind has blown today – her hair’s a fright)
But soon downstairs she goes to talk and eat,
Before she makes her evening’s long retreat.

Up in her room, she thinks of what she’ll write.
Ideas she has, like waves or grains of sand —
She’ll work on three or four of them tonight,
Then stop to listen to a favorite band
Remembering, at once, his darkened hand
And that he is no longer by her side:
The man who played the groom to her young bride.

The house is quiet, all the kids in bed;
The night is still and peaceful in the main:
And love has never died within her head,
Nor been defeated by the throbbing pain
Of heart so full, it cannot all retain —
But still, the graceful night enfolds its own,
And love surrounds her, even when alone

Falling rain and heart and sky

Falling rain and heart and sky
Landing softly. You and I
Kissing there amid the spray
Of some long-lost summer’s day

Secret-telling in the dusk,
Perfumed hair, and skin and musk;
Peeling back the edge of shy,
Falling rain and heart and sky

I’m trying to understand —

What does this ocean mean right now?
It’s voice is soft, I barely hear

The words its forming in the waves
I stand, attenuated, like a deer —

But stillness breaks before it forms
My mind, it never finds repose

Whatever, now, this ocean meant
Is lost to space,
For heaven
Only
Knows

First Glass

Don’t tell him it’s not possible.

He drank his first glass while watching the sun go down over the bayou, enjoying the warm air and the sounds of reggae music.

When she arrived, minutes later, he realized, instantly, that it is possible for something perfect to become even more perfect.

On 11th Street

So much in every corner shop
The lights, the horns, the signs, the smells
There really isn’t time to stop
The once-shy heart within her swells

She’s got no time for fear, or fake
This is the trip she had to make
To make a woman out of shards
And live outside a house
Of cards