End Jamb

End Jamb

The conversation was rife
with well timed
pauses; intended
to keep balance at
bay. I raised my glass, sipped
slowly--deliberately.

“We really need to
talk” echoed over
the tinkle of
glass and silver
night.

“Maybe some time” // “apart”

(caesura)

The evening’s exchange wore down, then end-stopped.

SMG

What's Left Behind

What's Left Behind

I read the note,
though it was not
addressed to me.
I saw it laying
on the ground
amidst the rotted
timber and rusty
nails of a structure
no longer standing.
I’m not sure how
it came to be there
but the words
spoke to me from
the yellowed paper.

I sat for a while
with the iron
and wood debris
as I thought about
what it said:

“When I woke up this morning I couldn’t remember why I was here so I think it’s time to go. I know I loved you once but the wind has changed direction and I need to follow it. I wish you all the best but I understand if you can’t return the favor”

I dropped the note
back to the ground
and left it with
the bent reminders
of what had stood
in this place.

When the afternoon sun
began to pull a few beads

of sweat from my brow
I continued on my way.
There was a nice breeze blowing
and I longed to follow it.

SMG 

Posted for the One Stop Poetry Picture Challenge

Fractal Memories

Fractal Memories

The Burden of Time
distorts memories;
blonde pilsner days
and coffee nights
of years gone by
foul and turn cold
when left unattended.

The shimmer and glint
of sunlight on water ripples,
dulls as it rolls away
in thoughtless waves.

The faces of loves
left and lost splinter
into slivers of regret
and flout recall; a puzzle
never again complete
for too many pieces
are now lost or broken.

SMG

Write Blocked

Write Blocked

The white screen
taunts me with
a cursor’s wink
while I drill holes
through my skull
in search of gold.

Twenty six
alpha bitches
make promises,
ask for shape
and definition;
instructions
not included.

I feel like
a middle class
needle romancer,
cruising Hunts Point,
in search of my next
opium love affair.

Thalia smiles
and assures me
that I hold the keys,
then giggles and winks
when I ask her
“to which door?”

SMG