Monday, January 20, 2014


you are a bird
and birds 
do not stay

I bid you stay
for a moment

and you were
wild but stay
you did

and when
the beauty of
the sky called

you saw
you were meant
to fly

so I stretched out
long out on
the new ground

beneath you
to watch you soar
blessed and free

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Loss: A poem

I wore your sweater
nearly every day for 3 years.
Believing your essence
was somehow
knit into the collar, the sleeves, the
oversized warmth of the
blue yarn.

That sweater saved me.

But death is death,
and you left,
and that is true,
that is real.

So many years ago.
You, my first true love,
my possibility, the one
with the power to christen or damn
me, could not stay.

You have so long
been gone,
and still there is

an unmovable motion,
an inconsolable, eradicable
If I could tell you one last thing:
I want to shed the garment.
Pin the grief to the collar, set
it free on the sleeve,  
untangle the weave
and bask naked in the
sun, or the cold if
I must, but yes.

I want to
let you go.