This small space
abbreviates miles between us;
miles and trials through years.
This small sorrow
is but a hiccup of sobbing
in the midst of tempests of tears.
Would I know you if I knew
What you had done?
Would I see you if I saw
What you become?
This invisible distance
swallows up epics of breath.
What could I say?
Blind love magnetizes us,
our hearts caught hopelessly
in the passion of a day.
Sometimes people only fall in love for a moment, from across the room. Sometimes a life passes before their eyes that could be possible with that person, if only they crossed the room. But they don’t, for whatever reason, whether they’re afraid, faithful to someone else, or just insecure. Part of this poem is about that, part of it is not. Take from it what you will.
What does it mean when the blue jay sings?
That my number is up? But…
Was it ever down to begin?
Zagged shadows would tell our time
If more of the world were literate.
Here comes the curve and click of a lunch well served.
We know just what to say to get a smile.
Look down at your feet,
Count the steps.
Is this it?
All there is to it?
To live, love, laugh, lose, and leave?
If you don’t mind, could we just breathe
close together for a minute?
Our little corner, now well rinsed,
steam drying, shiny, newly green.
New like limes, but weary, drooping,
glad to be over and still attached.
These who do not know yet,
the fury of winds lashing, thrashing,
raging late summer gale,
rip trees and roar downtown. Some,
torn away to land among
brittle fellows in the grass,
recall the miles gusted,
sigh for closeness, breathe at last.