Touch

Curled up by the fire.

Paws touch hands. One last blink. The

sound of flapping wings.

 

 

Senseless Dream

One night I slip and fall inside a dream:

Here people sigh, they groan, they shake the trees,

but branches never swing and nothing falls.

Until at last I hear a throbbing scream,

then stars begin to drop like fruits. The breeze 

dissolves, the blood congeals, and roar the squalls.

And then I notice how the senseless lights

are rolling into seas, with grace and ease,

but stay afloat, illuming sleeping dolls

that dream this dream their lonely endless nights—

morn' calls!

An Act of Courage

Open the body's gates. Now, let fear

come, up those steps of bone and down

pulsating halls, to the room

decorated with love,

chamber of the heart.

Offer your breath.

Softly say:

Welcome

home.

Goddess Panacea at work

He spotted the goddess Panacea,

in the superstore shopping for popcorn.

Are you making healing popcorn? He asked.

"No, regular," she said. "Well, with sugar

and cinnamon." But why? He demanded

to know her secret. "I'm watching a film,"

she responded, looking vexed. Will you cure

someone after the movie? "No!" she raged,

"I have a life outside of work, you know?"

And so this is how it happened that she 

punched the annoying man and then had to

heal his bruised lips, which was, not, at all, tough

except this all happened on her day off.

"The End"

Each one of us is a story with a beginning we did not write and a conclusion we cannot predict. I remember, back in my school days, a young lady named Marissa who didn't like being a story. She wanted to be the author and force her story to conclude in a particular way. A way that made sense to her. Marissa even wrote a note, which ended with "The End." But that is not how her story ended. People still talk about it, changing the narrative, drawing new connections, discussing other possible endings. It should not have ended that way, some say. It really did not have to, others agree. I remember once Marissa told me how her grandparents met on the Titanic. The next day she said, I made it up. How happy she looked, for a very brief moment, for having fooled me.

Sound Asleep

I’m the guy, you’re the girl

I am the bivalve and you the pearl.

I the habit, you are the choice.

I’m the lips, you’re the voice.

I the muscle but you the pulse.

You’re the desired, I the impulse.

You the shepherd and I the sheep.

You’re the dream and I sound asleep.