Lethe


I must drink from the Lethe.
Her dark stream of forgetfulness
is certain to ease, with velvet touch,
that which constricts and binds my soul
to nights of endless, hopeless tears,
and days of heavy ashen-heart sighs.

untitled


Clarity of thought.
I crave you.
Yearning in my soul’s deep core
I breathe you,
Stumbling over your sweet memory
I recall:
The night we shared one kiss.
Interrupted,
So that it seemed as two.
I want
So much more than this.
What is allowed,
Is not a shadow of desire.
What is allowed,
Will never sate my hunger.
Slake my thirst.
Allow me
One final look in your eyes.
Allow me
One last taste of your spirit.

poem for my father


How long has it been
since i have felt a rough fingertip
tracing the path of my tear
down the curve of my cheek?

How long has it been
since i have felt safe, at peace,
my ear resting on a chest
spicy with cologne and tobacco,
and booming with warm love?

Too long, too long ago,
a voice, deep, and layered
with gentle love and fierce concern
spoke my name, and sighed.
Too many years
have passed, since proud smiles,
and the twinkle of a shared joke
laughed in bright green eyes.

xox

how long has it been

since i have felt a rough fingertip

tracing the path of my tear

down the curve of my cheek?

how long has it been

since i have felt safe, at peace,

my ear resting on a chest

spicy with cologne and tobacco,

and booming with warm love?

too long, too long ago

a voice, deep and layered

with gentle love and fierce concern

spoke my name, and sighed.

too many years

have passed since proud smiles,

and the twinkle of a shared joke

laughed in bright green eyes..