November 13, 2008

the fire was built higher still
in the hearth were the reminders.
the smoke had a fragrance,
probably from the flowers,
the letters burned a regretful green
and the clothes burned slow.
the heat was little comfort
against the coolness of thoughts
nor the orange-soft glow.
not the sort of blaze to sit around
and ponder,
neither the sort to light the pages
of literature.
this fire, this family of flames
flickers darkly and its smoke
will sting your eyes.

My Newest Obsession

October 6, 2008

I have a new obsession,
and my hands won’t cease their shake,
i am in my closet –looking for regrets,
but atop each set of bones is prettily perched a face. 

My newest madness,
to dig through things i worked so hard to forget
and tell myself “how terribly you’ve suffered!”
but yet I’d do them all again.

There are shadows cast,
the skeletal outlines of the people in my past
grace the wall behind the empty hangars
and a set of old drapes.

We Made Vinegar with Our Grapes

September 24, 2008

we made vinegar with our grapes,
bitter and briny,
knotted our fates
tangled and viney.
but vinegar has uses too,
we can make the best of this,
they were never bad grapes,
just not as sweet as those chosen for wine.
the path we chose
was perhaps better, at least, than rotting on the vine.