silence in the house
I let the blanket of it
wash over me

fish on the wall
your mouth hangs open,
will you ever answer?

solitary road trip
the wind delivers
the sounds of dusk

quiet study time
i long to be studying
you

beneath the sheets
I hear laughter
outside the door

first snowfall
the world engulfed
in silence

hospital room
the oxygen tank
his only company

open meadow
an orange butterfly
finds my shoulder

the world isn’t cold
you are
she gives him her jacket

backyard
I notice
new flowers

alone in white
I try on
my mother’s dress

quiet library
one book
untucked for me

all alone
will this last forever?
she asks the winter moon

winding road
I brake to
save the turtle

a joke which fell flat
thoughts of
ripping my skin off

deeper into the blizzard
one yellow light
too far

motionless
the doll's eyes
reflect the lonely moon

date night
all I hear is
dogs barking

whistling wind
you carry
my secrets

heading out the door
I turn to say goodbye—
you're no longer there

sleepless night
in a bed without you
black hole

autumn night—
the last firefly
extinguished

starry sky
i try to feel
your presence

strawberry dusk—
a cricket sings
hoping for a harmony

coffeeshop soliloquy
two seats
one person

holding this stretch
I elongate
my stresses

chasing the ball
the recruiter
leaves the stadium

tracks in the snow.
going every which way . . .
lost in thought

a peek
into the universe
sand between our toes

snow covered mountain
looking down
at the spine

chatter filled
coffee shop
her face fills the pages

sun gazing on
the stadium
empty at halftime

jersey number 5
will I ever be called
my name

drive-through window
no plastic straw needed
save the turtles

cracking wood
still used in bonfires
they burn just the same

seven years gone
his room still left
untouched

customized dog bed
fingertips tracing the spot
where he used to sleep

straps molded to a fist
a broken Viking shield
hangs on the wall

open corn field
a luxury mansion
for field mice

ears ringing
laying my head
on the pillow

grandma’s hands—
liver spot
constellations

pressed between
the fresh pages
a worn photo of us

fallen tree
over it grows
a pillow of new moss

an old map
journeys through the years
it gains new folds

mid-afternoon coffee date
I ask her how
she got that scar

childhood library
the pages of my favorite book
folded at the corners

endless horizon
soft sand
flooding over my toes

the worn stock
warms my cheek
grandpa’s .22

thanksgiving
grandpa snorts
at the table

white lace gone yellow
the button back still undone
too small

old bridge crumbling:
hands held tightly
across the way.

old man’s kneecaps
knotty oaks
still standing

weary traveler
leans over a bottle
arms crossed

distant mountains
memories of
his strong hands

lined tombstones
the fallen leaves
join the army

muddy cleats
the old field
gains new bruises today

old city streets
are the ghosts in you
or me?

new neighbors
introducing myself
over a plate of fresh cookies

when he pulls away
my lips taste like
sugar

playing tag in the
middle of the store
he and I are young again

early morning sunrise
unzipping the tent
my father awakes me

feather pen
behind the display glass
held by thousands of eyes

I wish
to be frozen in time
with you

wine elixir
the weight of the world
melts away

music in the streets
blasts our eardrums—
a wedding parad

fire burns
so does my
marshmallow

ferris wheel
you grab my hand
the older couple smiles

open arms
my mother greets
my fiancé

three legged cat
it hops to the toy
same as the rest

cumulonimbus
rabbit
in the sky

summer camp
I hold a paper bag
full of lemon drops

our walk back home
too late to mind
the mud

my fingers in the sand
finally
5 o’clock somewhere

pawn shop silver
gifted for Christmas
weak clasps

Mississippi River
much larger than
the last time I saw her

awakened by
bellowing laughter
the scent of cinnamon rolls

love in the air
surrounded by
sunflowers

the zoo
a collection of plush tigers
for protection

on a plane
everyone drunk
except the pilot

late night in Jackson Square
an old woman tells me
about our future

Café du Monde
the saxophone serenades
our beignets

what's your biggest fear?
he asks
a warm hand on my thigh

hair cut in a bob
it's remarkable how many men
think I am of age

the world is collapsing
the only thing keeping me going
dissonant jazz chord

fogged windows
you show your flaws
to me

staring into the pond—
a fish jumps
to greet me

 
first beignet I mistakenly wore black

orion's belt
she holds it
together

crossing the threshold
bridge
a corpse below

red leaves
they don’t care
about midterms

                morning
           sun        rise
peeking         over      the
            rolling      hills

fall breeze
early season hopes
dying

you see
galaxies
i see
questions

vanity
fallen from the stars
cassiopeia

gibbous moon,
a sky not
full enough.

emperor penguin
her baby
warm between her feet

 
nail biting down to the quick my answer arrives

 
reaching for his hand as we cross the sinking street brother

one fifty seven
a ghost
or a new old friend

melting ice
new plants poke through
the evidence

glasses of lemonade
pizza by candlelight
april fools

police knock
escaping
through the window

pink backpack
in the trunk
his trophy

gun tucked
beneath the seat
tinder date

dead hitch-hiker
the same haircut
as his mother

snowflakes descending
they push my voice
back into my throat

open closet
how many pink sweaters
does one person need?

leafless tree
kids play
in the remains

basil plant
on the window sill:
a blizzard outside.

blanket wrapped
around shoulders
brother missing

paper torn up
scattered
saturn's moons

cross eyed
just enough to notice
when you get close

grace
her hips sway
politely

on the couch
with an old friend
I hear a new story

Valentine’s Day
raspberry chocolate
shit.       It’s orange

winter incoming
longing for
my toes in the sand