Poetry Archives L-M

Lies the Neighbors Told Yesterday

From outside my window

Don’t kick that ball over the fence
I won’t go get it

I flip through my mental catalog
find the face
to match the voice
and smile at the lie
knowing that woman
as little as I do
and still knowing
she would go
over that fence
under it
through it
tear it down with her bare hands
burn the pieces
bury the ashes
then stand unflinching
before any judge in the world
and deny there had ever
been a fence at all
if that fence stood
her little boy
and what would make him happy

I smile again
at the instant of silence
outside my window
that is a little boy
deciding he should at least try
to not kick the ball over the fence
Loosing Change

Pennies in a jar
dropped by others
caught my eye
with their
gleam against gray
until I lost count
and wondered
by the weight
of their worth
if I shouldn’t
have saved years
Marking Time

Slips of time
torn one by one
word of the day

thrown and scattered
confetti of longing
covering the floors I pace
and still a solid block
slips of time
waiting to be torn
counting the tomorrows
that lie between
yesterday and soon
Mortar Undissolved Between the Bricks of a Heart
(for Andy Robertson)

Pieces break off sometimes
and land
and make
sounds of words
late and drenched
and marking
whatever surface is handy

the ones you had saved
for others
always fall in places
you save for yourself

And always form a shape close enough
to the same
that anyone who knows you
would know you
Movable Object

You were a foregone conclusion
the irrefutable argument
for and against possibility
an uncompromising presence
a resounding proclamation
of your inevitability
never a chance I took
for the odds did not exist
and chance was not mine to take
for my illusory doubt
you were not a questioned thing
never a choice to make
from an unknown quantity
in an instant you became
a simple statement of fact
theoretic to conclusive
in the space of hello
but time enough for me to react
to this new element
introduced to my world
directing what would now be its course
drawn away from the past
and pulled into the realm
of your irresistible force
My Sister the Poet

by two wombs
in common
one that brought us
into the world
one that caught us
when we left the first
nurtured the unseen
then gave us
naked and screaming
to a life
that demanded
we tell ourselves
not only by the blood
but by the ink
in our veins
return to Poetry Archives