Love Poem

A friend recently shared with me a cartoon in which Shakespeare’s wife complains , “Another sonnet?!?!?!” as she reads a birthday card from her poet hubby. This poem is inspired by that cartoon. This is not about my wife. She loves me lots!!

Image result for shakespeare cartoons another sonnet?

Love Poem

I placed a few words
on a slip of paper,

slide them
beneath your pillow

where you hoard shadows,
where the sheets,

white and cold,

wrinkled as water
icey and thick.

I’m quite sure
you loved me once.


Ever feel this way?


I’ve grown tired
of parking lots,
of asphalt,

the white lines
splayed upon
that black heat

like the bones
of giant fish.
I’d prefer earth

to ache
beneath my weight,
give, like a soft cake,

the grass to bend
beneath my stride,
a hornet, anger and sting,

to damn me
as I disturb
its blossom sweet,

silk and pink,
reminding me
I still matter.

Its Name

Here’s a revision to the poem I posted earlier today. It needed to grow. Growing well? I don’t know.

Image result for black butterfly

Its Name

See the butterfly,
black, black as ink,
and dusted, lightly,

sugared with the sky’s blue,
see its dodge and weave,
a dancing kite, its lunge

and climb. I imagine
it’s scratching
its name on the afternoon.