Olive

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Birds in the rain

I overheard this morning

One, an albino-breasted Robin lady

The other, the always-humble female Cardinal

A Noticer, that Robin was, and piped right up to ask

“Are you sick, Miss Olive?”

“Heartsick,” Olive sang sadly

Belying her humility, but with head still hung low

“I’ll always believe I was the better bird.”

True Love

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Itching, constant itching…and seltzer in my veins.

Given to despair and doom…giving back all gains.

This is how I feel from you…my inglorious lot.

None fiction be more dark than this…none epic, evil plot.

Offense

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Are you here to parade in my past

Marching, lock, stock and barrel

With all the should’ve-been soldiers

Never healed

Never having entrusted their hand

Am I here to remain unredeemed

Writhing, uncertainty everywhere

With all the versions of me

Never arrived

Never knowing anything but alone

Naught

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All I learned Today

Blood’s thicker than Truth

I unsettle You

If my thumb’s broken, it was not for Naught

Kids will find their Fun

Joy lives ‘longside Pain

Victims don’t live Here

Gentlepoet

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Boundaries

Drawing them in bold, black ink and silvery stardust

Screaming-streamed across the age-old sky

Can do nothing to take back my life

Can it

Filters

Weaving them with silken strands and begging hands

Humbly offered across the communal table

Will do nothing to bring back the gentleman

Will it