she leaned in hard, again,

while the train rumbled overhead...

her dehydrated lips planted onto my own,


and we stuck the landing;





it was only weeks later
i knew she knew
that was goodbye.

all my back hairs rip out as question marks

white rose blooming
in winter as always,
in winter -- only:
the white rose blossom...
her fair skin tumbling...

timeless,
suspended,
a feather aloft
entangled limbs
hanging on for Dear Life.

it happens in a moment
when blood doesn't hasten
to boil and dance...
the fireplace crackling, laughing... 

new orbits slow as they converge
while seconds linger and thicken.

nails divot into skin perfectly,
a hard three iron to the green in two...

quick: flip onto your back'n
i'll climb aboard the jungle gym,
stare into those pale blue orbs
samurai slashing through possibility,
now stark, bare, naked.

we fall back, sighing,
to take firm hold
of limbs, once again.

listen,
i'm telling you the truth here:
i honestly can't budge
for the happiness of me.

i'll leave and come back
to find the stove hot.

i'll steal away, write
poems on bleak dinner bills
only to find the check's
paid in full; the table
is flaccid. they saw the
winking idols on the wall.

the jig is up.

i just need you to know
  that i say these words
  that i walk this line
      as awestruck and gun-shy a straight line as this is...

because i am broken

because i am lonely

because i have nothing but these broken statues, tattered maps

that if i could just take anyone
i'd save my people

but my people see

they know the paths are beaten
they have seen the flowerless field
they have retreated back to camp

so, we don't take just anyone
so, we don't eat but twice a year
so, our ribs cry manic arias through soft, thin flesh

we have our pride
we have our idols back here in this cloth in this satchel
quick, hurry: they're coming!