Tag Archives: romantic love

Impatient For The Stars

Daisie sits on a swing in a small park

just off the two lane highway,

somewhere in Kansas.

We’re on vacation, finally, heading

to Northern California, to Mt Shasta,

and the ships in the air.

I sit on the swing beside her and we

pass a huge plastic cup of fast food iced tea

back and forth between us.

There’s a splinter in her heart tonight,

and I don’t know how to soothe her.

We’re chasing something beyond this world.

The park is as tired as a resigned sigh,

and the swings and jungle gyms and spring animals

have seen better days. Still children happily play here.

The sky is so huge it could swallow us, like God swallows

the universe in his eye, and we may stay until the stars come,

so we could look out on the night through God’s eye.

A long way to go to get where angels or demons or

otherworldly beings make sense of this restlessness

and unquiet, this desire to escape flesh and gravity.

Out of tea, she places the empty cup by her feet,

and we look up at the sky, impatient for the stars,

for the voice that quiets the terror and dislocation.


Learning To Skate

Your from up here, long dark winters,

snow that stays until spring, frozen lakes.

I’m from warmer climes. Mostly it rains.

The days are overcast. Not often freezing.

I am as unsure and wobbly as a new born fawn,

out on the ice in these skates, your brother’s old pair.

I cling to you to stay up, almost like a child in a crowd,

as we slowly slide out farther on the ice, beneath stars.

I laugh, and you laugh. Me nervous, you amused.

Our breaths are like speech balloons in old comic books.

I try to stand on my own. You have to catch me again.

I can stand, slowly, gingerly, move myself in squiggles.

You elegantly make circles around me, almost float.

The night is bitter, and I shiver, but my chest is flushed.

My cheeks too.  Girlishly, you cover your mouth as you giggle.

Then you take my hands in yours, and we skate side by side.

Silent now, just us, to stars that were almost embers in the night,

now bright and burning bright again, the cold night be damned!

The stars are endless here. The things we will be even more so.

Brighter Than Angels

The summer was golden and honeyed and brighter than angels.
We walked hand in hand in ancient woods and wide open meadows.
We played and crystal clear waters that took our breath away
as we dove under. The sun shimmered and crowned the mermaids.
We made love in our little cabin as the day ended, falling asleep embracing.

And summer is a ribbon that cuts your heart with a sweet and stinging venom
as we wait out the dim days and moonless nights, wiping away the tears of the stars
as we remember the sweetness we had before and that me must wait to return.
We laugh and dream and talk about the first time the sun will touch our child
when it comes to us in the first of spring, a year after we exchanged rings.

Holding on to the light as the darkness seems eternal and unpassing.
I must remember the stars crown my wife’s head as we keep out the red dragon
that comes in the cold and in the dark and the siren song of despair.
She is warm as we share our simple meal, and find strength in memory and hope.
The sun will come again, having escaped the serpent that tried to swallow it.

The sun will come again.