Rickety Table
Rickety
table
a
faithful friend,
always
last to be chosen
by
others,
but
always there for me.
Your
wobbly round top, atop
an
unsteady post, teetering.
Your
cherry wood chipped
stained
finish flaking
coffee-stained
rings replace.
Your
imperfections allow me to love
what
would otherwise be
an
easy job.
Untitled
The
woman who read books turned upside down.
The
woman who played scrabble outside the borders
because completing a fun word is
more important.
The
woman who taught herself to throw knives.
The
woman whose voice brings me to tears.
The
woman who thought my humor was hilarious.
The
woman who wore fairy wings and flew at me.
The
woman who spoke to me in fluent Elvish.
The
woman who helped me understand advanced electrodynamics.
The
woman whose leg was shattered by an improvised explosive device
and said to me the scars were
nothing.
Requiescat (circa 1997)
I
starve myself
and
what a blissful fast it is.
I
drink not your dark eyes
nor
taste such delicate lips.
( do
they melt warm on mine like caramel? )
It is
for absolution I pay,
and pray in my solitude--
waiting.
Your gaze the wine,
your touch the bread.
What
dark sin have I
that I
should kneel so,
bowing
before Athena.
O,
goddess of Wisdom and War, I feel your conflict--
take
my anguish, take my head!
relieve me of my famished pang.
I pace
and wear a canyon in the Earth,
my
screams of hunger
echo
in the void.
Why
not eat then as to die?
Because
my death
or desire
will
only happen once;
Rather I await the fruit of Ambrosia
than the flower of the Bittersweet.
.
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