December 14th Poems

On the Bus

Turbaned, on the packed bus, sitting alone
Hollow-cheeked; reading, bearded, a book in foreign tongue.
Each person that moves by does not sit, a wound
Scraped on the marrow of one’s soul,
Every glance searched for fear, reflexive
Bitterness hidden under calm mien.
And, too, dark amusement at people who
Help create monsters all unknowing,
Never thinking themselves unkind.


On Needing Sleep

The longing for some name of bliss,
Sleeping in separate beds,
Your snores rocking the confines
Of this, our hollow fortress.

Of all reasons to divorce you
Only this, alone, is true:
I can’t sleep beside you
No matter how I love you.

Memory pulses thro’ my brain
A snore! A snore! It never ends:
It’s small things that destroy us -
My ears can’t stand the strain.



We met where the sacred clothes itself in the profane.
You - an image of the Goddess,
I - just a drunk and foolish man.
“Take it off,” I said softly, meaning the divinity.
Your sweet nothings burnt into my soul
Louder than thunder,
The dress falls naked
To the ground, to the most holy ground, like a dream spent.
I rush to save it, to claim it, to hide
My face from the ever-living storm.
Sodden with fear we cling together, come together.
The dance as old survival,
I imagine lightning as we melt.
Orifices meeting hunger
In the temple of the gods our thunder
Briefly stuns the Heavens to silence
And we flee from darkness to dream
Held aloft only
By wild laughter
And a dress, like a flag, left to lie
Fallow in the breeze.