new poem babies

I repeat your name as a mantra,
falling into its rhythm
into trance.
~


Dream-scattered poem:

Umbrella-darkened face
fractured in the flooded gutter
is more real.
~


Of course, you
don't remember
how well you tasted.
You tasted like
the sound of the ocean
from a conch shell.
I would ask for you back,
call you desperately
late at night...

but I have you already bottled;
and eroded smooth by the sea.
~

Fires:


I learned early to
celebrate the burning;

be it smoking to the filter,
self-immolation, spontaneous combustion
or cremation.