Scorched

What words will we have left, that break the day?

when burning leaves stroke smokeless in our hair

and scratch along the porch? What will we say

against the rolling frame of a rocking chair
to salt a season to death with human words,
or exalt tired arthritic hands to share
the Eucharist with weathered faith-winged birds?
Succumb our bodies to the harvest prayer?
I trust with tattered jeans on shriveled knees
and coffee mugs on railings do starve grey days
still lost in sacraments of skin, when trees
embraced in ember leaves the sun-torched glaze
of tongue on tasted word—until the ears
that hear I love you burn with honored years.

© May 2009

Unraveled

Unraveled,
These threads that held
The fabric of our lives
Woven together for a time
In the brightest colors,
The sweetest fibers.

Oh, how you smelled of summer
Freshest corn
Crimson tomatoes
Chlorine drenched skin
Before the scorching heat of August.

You said you’d never leave me
Alone,
In the garden, where nothing grows,
And now it is true, I suppose,
For though you have left me,
I am not completely alone.

I bask in the most lush,
Magnificent field of wild flowers,
A soft smile slowly rising,
On salty lips wet from weeping,
Observing a new life all around.

Drying these final tears
For us, my love,
The time has come to forgive,
Embrace the sad child back into your heart,
And take him home, now.

I will always wish that,
The sun guides your steps,
The moon holds your dreams
And with that,
I’ll forever give you my best,
Unraveled.

© June 2009