Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Grace

I lay your head in graveyard grass
beneath where stone-gray mountains grow.
Grace, feel the insects wriggle past

the way our hands and bodies mesh.
And as our blood begins to flow
I lay you down in graveyard grass

to breathe-in sweet decay’s morass
of blackened earth and what’s below.
Grace, feel the insects wriggle past

our muffled sighs until, at last,
a shaded scythe seems apropos.
I thrust inside the graveyard grass

for both the first time and the last,
then kiss you twice before I go.
Grace, feel the insects wriggle past

the way you slowly lose your grasp
and smile now because you know
I’ll rest your head in graveyard grass.



Thursday, October 2, 2014

The First Snow Since Newtown

December 18, 2012

It's fat and splashes on my head,
melts one way down the back of my neck,
which explains the shivering,

then the other way off the tip of my nose,
which explains the handkerchief –
the same one I used to clean my son's
nose when he was six years old.

Everything’s just gone gray and the red
in the clouds means the sky is thawing.




Naugatuck River Review - Summer 2014