Tag Archives: distance between lovers


She sits naked on the bed, her back to me, looking out the window.
It is a dim and hazy morning, window open, a warm wind does blow.
She might turn into a bird, ash grey like heaven, flutter up and go.
The morning filled with the calls of birds, commuters, hangmen.
She could see the end of the world where every death will begin.
If her wings come through her shoulder blades, the devil will win.
I kiss those same shoulder blades, those sharp faces, special dispensation.
She is in another world, enjoying her Friday Feast, registers no sensation.
My meal of cold fish cannot pour out enough love to absolve her resignation.
Feathers are sharp, fine wire, taking bits of flesh as they cut down the strings
of the most holy and indifferent stars, falling to earth and all the confusion it brings.
The sweetness of that first kiss as I sit here, sharing breath but not intimacy, stings.
She could be in Cleveland by sundown, or Pompeii before they’d miss her in the store.
She watches the world wake, and time the revenge of a friend she lost in another war.
She is gone, and I count the wounds her sharp and disinterested talons leave in the floor.

“That Sweet By and By”

A road trip, open highway, plenty of time to talk. We say nothing.

A religious station, an old hymn, a woman’s voice offered up in praise.

“That sweet by and by.”


There is the expanse of creation between us. Once, we were one.

Words are fluttering and empty. Once they called down God himself.

They once brought us together.


The sun is a golden halo in bright and shimmering clouds. Like heaven.

Promise of place beyond silence and distance, and loss in close quarters.

Promise of a return of once was close and effortless.


“That sweet by and by.”

Rainy Night, January

Rain on a gloomy evening suits me fine.
I eat my meal, and drink some boxed wine.
The words can’t show what I want to show.
There are parts that she’ll never get to know.
A good soaking rain this dark January.
In the spring, in the sun, we will marry.
Yet so much I try to get her to understand.
I try to find the peace of her holding my hand.
And the words just open wounds, makes it worse.
The feelings in my soul are a darkening curse.
She’ll be home soon, and we’ll talk and be together.
A solace in the darkness, in this cold and morose weather.
But the tongue is a traitor and my mind a misfiring spark.
The flicks of light can’t reach here from this private dark.