like the regret we feel
when losing what is dear
like the time before days became grave
Parable w/ a Girl-Woman Petting an Injured Cat Before I Knew Her Inside the Coma Awakening of Time
In Amsterdam it was raining, in Iowa, the snow had angel-misted over
the mangled corn fields where the wind howled as it marauded
across the naked burrows & into the open pig barn like a sliced hurt,
ripping a black dress apart &, in Paris, a couple softly read the
news paper
A Poem for the Turning of the Year
You will be the song I hum
in the dark, forgetting
Who it is I sing of
Pruning Rose Bushes in Early December
A bloody business, this annual
pruning; the thorns still razor sharp; fingers and
forearms scored scarlet;
Taco Bell Apostate
The thought meandered, then
I realized the problem
All the single-use
plastic,
At Land’s Edge
but for now, all we can do is remain silent and peek
through the cracks between jambs caused by frigid waters,
reminding ourselves that our children will not be slaves;
they will be masters of the land, air, and sea