peach (20170624)

the peaches ripen now
the beginning of summer

we work fast

to protect what we can of this small
crop from a single tree
trimming back

the branches
where they encroach
on the neighbor’s roof
covering it with a net
in an attempt

to keep birds and
rats and squirrels
[all the same genus as far
as i am concerned when
it comes to this tree]
from making short work of
the fruit

picking a handful
that are ripe
or almost there

eating a single
peach while on the ladder
holding it in my work gloves
and biting into the soft flesh
not caring how the juice runs down
my chin or glistens on my leather fingers
tossing the pit into the open can
and thinking that i’ve never
tasted a peach that good
and knowing it may be

the sun [browning my neck]
doing the talking

Poem 20150216

let that small moment be still
when the coffee is hot and pure
when the bed is warm and the floor is cold
when the bread is warm enough to soften but not melt butter
when the radio plays our favorite song
when your hand seeks out mine
when your breath is in the hollow of my collarbone
when your eyes are half-closed and your mouth half-open
let time stop in his tracks

Poem 20150115

among the smooth grass
above the markers
three graces smile
holding hands
each looking in a different

only one has faced death before
and it is her constant companion
a shadow that no amount of light
can banish nor darkness obscure
the other girls will never know
the same way
the touch of his cold still hand
in their own small, warm, ever-moving hands

but the soldiers
who wait beneath their little feet
who wait beneath the warm loam
who wait silently at attention forever
have shared this with her
before their transmutations
and now as she smiles
on this sunny day

Poem 20141208

the police set up barricades
that didn’t stem the endless tide of cars
in and out of the neighborhood
just slowed them down
and we had to park pretty far away
since you wanted to get out and walk
which was the better way
to see the christmas lights

it was cold for a southern california december night
and talking with you
i watched my breath form vapor clouds
your breath came out like steam too
and our breath mingled
a miniature weather system
between us

i gave you my jacket
the long green overcoat
i had bought secondhand
and we walked close
like we shared ribs and organs and bloodflow
and we barely noticed the grinch and snoopy
the parade of lit-up wisemen
a hundred santas that burned
as bright as the afterimage of fireworks

when i slipped my hand into the false pocket
and found your skin
warm inside in spite of the cold
we had to hurry back to the car