Downcast eyes,
a tentative
I made this for you.
Whatever it is
wrapped by hopeful hands,
holding you with a glistening gaze,
There is only one response:
It’s lovely!
Crumpled paper,
unfathomable art,
shapeless, tasteless garment,
Made it for you means
I love it.
I love it
means
I love you, too.
laughing eyes
begin to smoulder,
leaning in
gentle touch,
lips spark
in the darkness
electricity
between us
This is our path
We walk step in step
We’re heading in the same direction
Around us, the seasons change,
friends leave us with only memories,
reminding us that these days are precious
our hands are clasped together,
trusting in our
future.
I woke to my alarm’s
jaunty greeting, lay lulled, wondering where you were,
until I found the sense of you, pressed against my shoulder blades.
I lay, enjoying the warm weight of you,
until the alarm started up again.
It meant it this time.
So, regretfully,
I pulled away from you,
buried my face in your warm belly,
said farewell as you stretched and smiled up at me.
Wednesday will be a long day apart,
but I will return,
and you’ll be waiting,
eagerly.
.
.
.
(a little homage to my canine companion!)
You’re a beacon, baby
Oh yeah.
You flicker like a flame
and I come to you.
I’m a lost ship.
I’m a moth.
You’re a candle
when the power’s out.
You’re a flashlight
slicing through the night.
You’re a beacon, baby.
Bring me home.
.
.
.
Hmm. Sounds like it wants to be a song, doesn’t it?
Tibetan proverb quoted by the Dalai Lama in The Book of Joy (I highly recommend this book!)
This quote brilliantly summarizes my experience of life with and as an exchange student. Half your heart has moved to a new location.
In the black room,
the light from the
DVD player claims
it’s 12:00.
12:01.
12:02.
Every minute
counting down to you.
12:03
Are you dreaming of me?
They’re talking love letters
and I hold my tongue
but not my lips.
The tilting corners betray me.
The envelopes with your distinctive hand writing
my name like a caress
glued down like a kiss,
all our hopes and dreams scribbled onto foolscap
by a fool to a fool
giddy from hormones.
And now love letters
are notes on the counter:
“Turn on the crockpot at noon”
“Running errands. Back around 3.”
Messages that mean you still
love me.
Old blazer.
I reach into the pocket:
A piece of plastic wrapper and a hole.
While pristine on the outside,
Both sides within are eaten through.
Instantly,
the ghost of an old dog is in the room with me,
the metronome of his tail slowly waving
while he looks away
to hide the twinkle in his eye.
I am but one pebble on the beach of your memory,
but oh how I remember the tides of you,
lapping across the surface of me,
making me shine for a moment,
glinting in the sunlight refracted by your ripples,
toppling me in your surf, ’til I clattered like applause
as you went back out to sea.
Shawn L. Bird 