Before we were married ...

standing in your living room,
terrified
because you see me
and still love me


Photo credit: Tim & Selena Middleton, via flickr // CC BY 2.0

Crowd Control

I can’t babysit them like I used to;
there’s no time to set them down gently.
When I get interrupted, as I often do,
my poems don’t queue neatly
like patrons at the post office.

Rather, they are a raucous crowd:
unruly soccer fans, kicking,
clawing, screaming at one another,
clamoring for my attention,
desperate to be noticed.

I hear them strangling now,
words congealing on the page,
stagnant as a blood clot.
Scabbing over, they will harden.
The leftovers wait to be picked off,
wait, impatiently, for their reprieve.


Photo credit: John Martinez Pavliga, via flickr // CC BY 2.0
(I realize this is a crowd of football fans, not soccer fans, but they certainly look raucous to me!)

Even Now (for JF)

So we decided to remain friends
because I knew in my heart
that I couldn’t stand her
dating you, and me
off to one side, watching,
waiting for the phone to ring
desperately wanting
things to go back
to when we were
just two.

And we remained friends
even after the time I got drunk
and followed you around
to the neighborhood bar, cornered
by our dateless co-workers,
desperately lonely,
singing karaoke
off-key, horrible
memory, haunted me
for years.

Today, though apart,
I think of you, my friend,
and me, and how we married
other people, our best friends,
and I know, once again,
that I made a good choice
to let you go.
I wish you the best,
not desperate, not lonely,
just curious,
even now.


Photo credit: Dragunsk, via flickr // CC BY 2.0