One
.
tiny
.
perfect
.
snowflake
.
falls
.
through
.
empty
.
sky.
.
Intrepid?
.
or harbinger?
poem-weeping December 2, 2019
He, loved filled,
would be caught weeping.
The first time,
graduation.
The second,
over broken relations,
feeling her pain, worried
she’d be okay.
Later,
from loneliness,
from frustrated, infirmity,
he would weep, “Please come!”
I’d wrap my arms around him,
sit beside him,
share those moments of fragility,
so thankful for love,
so thankful for him.
She’s never shown a tear.
Year after year,
muttering,
grumbling,
no personal responsibility,
dark heart.
Her rages
call for no sympathy.
At least,
from me.
poem- wishes November 25, 2019
She used to see him everywhere
He wove into every conversation
‘All roads lead to…’ they joked
Now the roads go new places
Wind through wishful thinking,
blissful realities
settle comfortably in what is
for what it’s worth.
poem- baking tomorrow November 22, 2019
She is gone
traditions will be different in her absence
I am a poor substitute.
May our Christmas cookies
and your memories
be sweet.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
poem- updating dreams November 21, 2019
Last night
you didn’t come as your youthful self,
my fun, faithful friend.
Instead, bald, broad, and bellied you asked,
your hard question against my thigh:
Why not?
Respect, I said,
Squeamish at your leer.
You lowered your voice to that super serious tone
I remember so well.
Really?
So much doubt.
Yes.
Really.
Even in my dreams I’m over this.
poem-fluff November 16, 2019
Tight black ball
warm, curled against my hip
tail twitching in dreams.
Serious affection or just fluff?
It’s all the same to me.
poem-cell phone November 7, 2019
That millstone
holding you back
begging your eyes
stealing your time.
Can you ignore
a tone or tingle?
Or do you tune out
teacher, text, or talk–
a zombie
tangled in wifi strands
wrapped around
a stone,
glassy eyes held faster
than data transfer speed.
poem- uh oh November 6, 2019
I am dissolving
melting
unraveling
falling
blinking
broken
ready
for
rest.
poem- thirsty November 4, 2019
It’s all just excuses,
you’d say.
Sure. Blame me like always.
Like her feelings are an attack
somehow.
Maybe there’s something
you could do,
to acknowledge hurt and pain,
instead of defenses,
show adoration again.
Shawn L. Bird 