“Happiness is thus lucky.”
Robert Creeley
“I don’t want to think about sadness;
there’s never a lack of it.”
Peter Everwine
The morning air
When you
paints the sky
tiptoe to bed
with a blue that
late tonight,
red and green cannot mix.
your neck
Boundless.
smells of another
Cloudless.
man’s cologne.
Nonetheless,
What is it that
your body turns
you want but I lack ?
in bed
Big hands,
every five minutes –
slick tricks,
as if a storm
or a dumb
is whirling within.
sad smile?
*
When we first met,
This morning,
you looked like a dahlia,
I woke up by myself,
a lotus, or an orchid,
finding myself
a new breed, growing
next to myself.
in a green house.
I opened the fridge
A flower riot.
and found our happiness
When we first met,
had expired.
I lost my language,
I also found
because every flower
you cutting roses
could be a notion of you.
in our weed yard.
*
You seated me at the table,
Suspicious
and decorously brought
like an owl,
me your home-baked pie. I put
you always thought
a bit in my mouth. It tasted
I had an inner self,
familiar. Of course, you’re
a self lurking
eating your own heart,
beneath the skin,
you said. Then, I found my chest
hidden
hollow, rib cage broken,
from daylight.
blood gushing down my
In your pie,
legs. I looked into your eyes,
salted and buttered,
and finished the pie,
there was no me.
and walked
Tonight, I proved you
away from you
wrong, with my heart
heartlessly.
missing and regained.