Poetry In Motion
Facade
Swallowing her reflection
in my fruitless wine.
Drinking her silken smile,
I find my glass empty.
Storm
Oppressive power pierces the
Earth’s surrendering clouds.
Branches, drained of worshipping,
Slowly stretch for the delicious rain.
Lemonade
Water,
sugar,
sweetened summer lemons
poured from a
wooden-handled pitcher
fills my slender glass
with deep loving
grandmother laughs.
The Reader
Books:
silky children’s greetings
arranged carefully,
slowly.
A delicious bouquet of pictures.
Love?
a slow,
endless desire
polished, to the bone,
my hot flesh with decay.
I stood
writhing.