The knife slips 

and 

suddenly 

the tip of my finger 

looks like 

the gaping gill 

of a large mouth bass 

laid out 

on the dock. 

Oh! I cry, 

and run to mama. 

Mama! Look what I have done! 

Oh! Cries mama. 

Look what you have done!

On a Rock

for my son, Thomas 

In a glade of tall grass 

Sits a boy on a rock. 

On the lap of the boy 

Sits a contented black cat. 

Nearby stands a father 

Camera in hand. 

On a desk in a room 

Is a picture 

Of a cat on a boy on a rock.

Organdy

for Julie

What lies beneath 

the palest 

pink 

is 

the allure. 

But I would 

forego 

that 

and all else 

for 

the smile 

and the warmth 

and the joy. 

As it happens, 

I have foregone all of it.

Sleeping Alone

So sweet 

and so pretty 

and so entrancing 

but so troubled 

and so scared to relinquish 

those inner-most parts 

that win people 

to your side 

forever. 

You must learn 

to touch 

and be touched 

and to recognize 

the one who will touch and be touched.

Someday You Too

She sits

at at tiny table at Starbucks 

watching 

a very old man 

perambulate 

his way through the mall, 

toward— 

she couldn't imagine what— 

Claire's? 

He is stooped, his feet shuffle, 

the breeze of passing teens nearly topple him, 

and it makes her sad. 

One day at a time my girl, 

it takes no effort.

Sunrise

On the frosty grass 

of night 

a cow gives birth 

to a stillborn calf. 

With sunrise 

I see 

vultures 

where they shouldn't be— 

already 

at the entrails. 

I haul it off. 

It weighs 

more than I expect. 

It always does.

Lincoln Park

for Julie

I've seen you occasionally 

in dreams, 

sometimes laughing, 

usually elusive. 

Once we sat together 

and admired—um— 

clouds I suppose, 

truly, wholly ignorant 

of our ease. 

Now look at us. 

Why we let those clouds 

drift away I'll never know.

Superficially

What I know 

is necessarily exterior. 

You dress in layers, 

privately. 

The words you give me 

are well chosen. 

I don't pry. 

I would say you are a mystery 

that yearns, a little, 

to show more, and say more.

Repose

for Julie

In the soft armchair 

your head 

reclined

comfortably 

languidly perhaps 

against the blue cushion 

you smile 

into the camera 

at peace 

with yourself 

and me 

and 

as the picture reveals 

every other conceivable thing.

Angela

Hanque sits next to 

this pretty, 

shy, 

blonde-haired girl 

in Algebra 1. 

Day after day he thinks

—I'd like to talk to her. 

or 

—I'd like to kiss her. 

And it isn't hard 

to imagine 

that she is thinking similar thoughts. 

But they never talk

and they never kiss.

Blues in a Minor Key

When a man gets the blues 

over a woman 

he finds a place to drink, 

or mopes along the beach, 

kicking sand, 

tossing stones—plink, plunk 

into the sea. 

When a man thinks of you 

it is in a minor key, noir, unsure. 

It is not a bar he wants, 

nor the beach. 

It is you— 

and he will walk 

until he finds you.

Bright

You were 

a gorgeous summer day 

turned violent with storm. 

When I lay beside you 

my fingers 

idly touching 

I thought of pure bright sunlight 

and hoped 

the clouds would fail 

to gather 

just this once. 

But no, your eyes flashed 

with joy and passion 

and scorn and mockery.

Casualty

for Julie

As a child 

she felt lucky, 

privileged. 

Her world was safe 

and she knew it. 

Then bad things 

began to happen. 

Not to her, 

but around her. 

At times 

she felt herself 

in the rubble of a war zone— 

no blood, 

but lots of pain.

Chick Flick

I stay up alone 

to watch the chick flick 

I brought home for Martha 

but she falls asleep 

so I avail myself 

of the opportunity to indulge 

in unfettered emotion 

whatever it might be 

to watch the drama unfold 

and take it like a man 

letting the tears fall where they may.