525600 Minutes Too Many

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“Be done leaving,” I’ve begged Time

Stop the silence

525600 minutes, almost now

Only just this morning
Done biding for unspoken goodbyes
I threw the clock out the door

Glass heart that it has
It’ll not show it’s square-jawed face
’round my gold again

It Kills Me

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I cannot remember the words

The top-ten song that found us there, together again that night

A vintage crimson string, tethering us to our wild years

All we knew in common, refined in the storm of them

I sang to you in the sheets we shared

That now escaped melody, I swear to you, sugar, it kills me

If you heard me, say you remember the words

Ad Hominems

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These times

Jackhammer & pow’r tool sounds

Rattl’ing windows

Prayer flags far too still

Birds just took their leave

Late morning already

And me not yet dressed for the day

Make me wonder

Are we getting any rain

Curtains

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Unravelings rambled undetected amongst the two us

Made their way to a place in our hearts that our brains didn’t know to protest

You, now gone, as a breeze
I, here, in the still
Grasping devotion I do set free

Blameless, we
For the loving words we uttered
For the promises we made

Unaware of translucent thorns wafting betwixt our souls

No Sunshine

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Driving yesterday, Friday
Suddenly, my periphery


I saw you
You saw me — singing, maybe


Our worlds, long since finished colliding


We, continued
I singing, still

“Why are you alone?”
The music sneaked up on me to ask


Caught me off guard


My voice was in another world
Singing of a lover’s soul


So I sang soul music to explain
Loud, because of my soul’s pain

Lofty

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I remember temperatures
Made me rise to you
Every opportunity
I leaned in to melt
Never swept the sun away
I bid it come closer
That I would rain down
Begged it then to burn me
Condense and then confine me
Maybe we were clouded
But I couldn’t care
I wanted to be near you
In your lofty air

Things With Strings

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See that small farm right there
See those young and old kids

Mine and his

Toys and mischief, solemnity and instruments strewn about
All things with strings — what heaven these things

Animals, there’s no choice

Alpacas, needing to wake us at dawn but, agreeable, settle in for the night before our dinnertime

Ebony dogs and snowy white chickens
No cows, but a cowboy

Keeps his white hat far back in our closet on a shelf and never puts my heart on a shelf

Comes home from work on time and Saturdays are his and mine

We get greasy together under the cover of some good old American steel

In the polebarn back there, muscle-bound memories we rebuild

Sundays are God’s, he says — how he leads the way, putting all striving aside for the day

On his knees each night in prayer

No need to prove himself to me ever again since he put me on a pedestal there in his heart of gold

Our house on a hill, our kids and our farm

His eyes and his time and his life

His gifts to me, Amen and Amen