Zach: A Portrait

Eleven years old
blessed with grace
and eagles eyes
Movements sharp
a poetic justice
to the teasing he endured
at their age
One two three in his hands
red yellow blue in his hands
the colors of kindergarten
the colors of soul
One by one
out of his hands
Cracking smashing
into their little bodies
Laughter and tears combining
a royal symphony
fit
for the King of the Dodgeball Court

Imagined Futures

There's never enough time in the morning
The suitcases go on for days
Deep sweet sleep dreaming
of pink hair and cold feet
Berlin sunrise
shivering, coat's too cold
Seattle sunset
an existential freeway crisis
Reaching folded paper
halfway across the world
Cry dying butterflies
winter wind dry snow
Soft hush quiet rush
Paris underground
clatter chatter my pastry
clenched in pearly teeth
drenched in wine-sauced meats
Kiss! Kiss!
Double cheeks
Oh Lord --
these suitcases go on for weeks

H.

I met you
like a dream

In the dark of midnight,
the middle of the road,
I climbed out of subconciousness
and into your car

As all romance is unspoken
we didn't touch
'til the dark of morning

Your kisses, H-----,
they were as clumsy as my speech
You hands, H-----,
they were nervous and uncertain
As if the female form
were so unfamiliar
and you were shaking

Our bodies pressed on.

My legs, H-----,
they were lost in you
My lips, H-----,
they were nervous and uncertain

In the light of dawn,
limbs entangled,
our gestures remained as they were
but no less wanting
than they had been
in the dark

Diner lunch and high cushions
Her legs long reaching the floor
Mine bouncing with junkie shakes
caffeine excitement
caffeine statement
Her face a puzzle
I can't quite place
Something isn't clicking
Finding something is missing
the conversation lacking a piece
we both know should be there
Diner's lunch between educations
blood and abuse
our ears abused
by social condolences of epic proportions
My tongue clumsy
her eyes wide
We shake knowing there is something
beyond the language that we speak
An understanding
of bodies too late now uncaring
We missed the train, so to speak.

In Dreams

You are drowning people
in your sleep
The guilty subconscious,
sick of dying,
is ready for revenge.
I can offer it,
and you,
Little
but the bed I lie in
and the man next to me.

So please,
take him.
I have no want of the power
that lies in his fingers
that waits softly behind his eyes.
Oh please,
take him by force,
because I cannot tell him to go.

The Bathroom Window

The frosted glass
waved glass is suitable
only for covering
my unsuitable nakedness
I am writing
backwards messages
in the steam from my water
and heavy breath (thinking of you)
The same finger
that draws this offensive
unnecessary message (after all, children live next door to you)
wants to trace the sweat
and water droplets
down your back
It's a pity this glass is frosted
this glass is waved
I'm never sure
my message gets through

A Rhyme Scheme for Jim

A heart, an open door
Take me here
Make me your whore
Though from heaven, you must creep
Alive on my doorstep
Come in to sleep
Though you breath
you've no air to give
Take my heart
that you might live