the yellowing pages
of Grandma ' s album
I find myself—in my mom

red with black lining
my bleeding heart
wears a bandage

people busily passing
small child
begs to go inside

nippy morning . . .
ducks stand single footed
heads folded in

on the porch
the conversation snuffed
by a passing train

cooler of beer
empty swimming pool
no bathing suits

sink of suds
I insist
on making dishes sparkle

family memories
recollected
through the ashes

bitterly cold
screaming her name
she still doesn't come

bulky groceries
obstruct my view—
the smell of lilies

bright light
men in uniforms
ruining the mood

light march rain
it continues
clenched teeth

a cold drizzle
as he packs up the car—
they hug goodbye

midnight swim
stirring the moon
with our fingertips

uninvited,
you make my tea
and drink it too

late night swim
                   he emerges
                   from the center
of the moon

clear summer night
the sound of the fireworks
after the flash was gone

empty bed
scent of my love
forever gone

flipped car
I run to the farm
blood trail behind me

leaving the terminal
I start the car
our song comes on

summer evening
the wind chime . . .
quiet

first fresh snowfall
run outside
with Grandma and Grandpa

new day
sun in my face
clear ocean breeze

bleak hours on the bus
another stop
so far from home

spring breeze
I close the door
he doesn't follow me 

broken vase
guilty look
as tears stream down

solitary piano
yearning to be played 
imagining Bach's G major fugue

carefree kisses
replaced by strained lips—
bone-chilling rain

spring shower
kisses like raindrops
soft and many

fathoms below reflected stars
                            ocean darkness

midsummer sky
locked in thought
by the cicadas hum

last night
summer vacation
talking to the stars

photo dark room
watching our love
               . . . develop

building the snow fort
the enemy
that never comes

lying on blankets
covering the sand
we gaze at the sky

sun on the horizon
waves crashing
sharing a pizza

rubbing sleep away
blanket
of snow

lightning strikes
orange sparks
fly up from the earth

tear streaked face
    my only friend
        in my prayers

moonlit shadows
the sound of the phone
hitting the wall

rusted beer cans
along the river bank
the chill of loneliness

my path to you
a tunnel of golden stalks
wind blowing my hair

gazing upward
in my tent
a spider gazes back

old memories
return each spring
magnolia blossoms

drunken night
always my excuse
for staying with you

full moon—
her letters taped
back together

first day of school
little purple backpack
    stained with tears

old hangout
nothing there
but memories and trash

with you
sleepless nights
are so worth it

the year is done—
step by step
I walk away

saving one tree
not for the environment
--for herself

magnolia blossoms
every spring I remember
my first tree

soul mates lie
         on fresh cut grass
                            s i l e n c e

early morning meeting
            one black sock
                       one blue

new red dress
between mirror and clock
I pace

          re
a
          rrang
ing               my life
for you
Winter's indifference

sipping tropical drinks with hundreds of men . . .
                                                             nobody will know

watching television
with you
on the phone