Our House
Arm’s length in the middle of the yard
grass above bare ankles
finger on the pulse of the other,
heartbeats scattered in wind.
Lightning flashes
illuminating the truth.
Faces shine in momentary
half light leaving a fraction
of a second to realize
their cells divide the same.
____________
Sunrise
The rise of pre dawn bird song
and the fan whirring in the other room,
wakes me. Tactile memory pulls me
from the last tendrils of dream.
The ghost of your touch
is all that lingers.
____________
Filthy
Each day brings
an unfortunate opportunity
to relive the past where filthy
people sought comfort
for their personal devils
in the soft folds
of my body.
A hundred small hands
extend from the center
of my burning chest,
pale ghost fingers,
keeping the world
at arm’s length.
I am
still
alone.
deuce coupe 