The crow flew overhead as I ran over her shadow.

Not a word passed between the old couple at lunch

They ate, efficiently & neatly

Not meeting eyes, not exclaiming tastes

She murmured nothing

As he zipped his jacket,

Heading outside for a smoke.

I feel you remembering me

The square plate fitted among the rounds

The fried dumpling

Dropped in the asparagus at the China King buffet

We are no more each other, though we are.

I eat left-handed as I write

(A skill I learned from a broken elbow)

The words won’t wait, the impressions pour over me

Like water overspilling glasses

Piled-high food

The take-out guy tucks green beans into foam-lip corners

I’ve driven a hundred miles to eat here

But in New Mexico, this is not far…

And I will eat no more today

Replete with Crab Rangoon

In the light of a desert day.

No dragons hang from the walls here

Tho I dreamed of dragons ‘pon waking

A carved-wood, sinuous length I put on the roof of my car

Meeting the eyes of others driving towards me.

I finger your memory

Like a piece of fine china

Remembered in a thrift shop

Transported for an only moment

Into the life when/after I loved you.

So, where do you go, when you leave me?

When your lips no longer touch mine, your tongue searching, tasting?

Your hands reaching to glide secret spaces.

When all it takes is a little attention to stoke

The fires I flame into

You disappear so well

I cannot find you

And choose myself to love

For only I am real.

#1

Mature woman seeks grown-up man

Who remembers to hold doors & push in chairs

One who looks at me & sees True Love

His heart must be open, but not needy

His shirts free of stains

Tho wrinkled & that thrift-shop smell are okay

He must be ready to have me blanket him with love

Tuck myself around his edges

With comfort, with not a little heat of passion

If interested, please reply.

Think if a bright melody – a Carol!

Then stand by for all the love you’ve ever wanted!

#2

I cried in my sleep for passion

My body woke & went seeking

Every pore alert

Oh, I found men whose antennae turned to my passing

Who were sweaty with need

But could not rise to any occasion.

I found some who drowned in my big brown eyes

But came up sputtering, shaking like wet dogs

Tucking tails to whimper away the prospect.

The men my age suspect wide-eyed innocence

No matter how sincere its aspect

How grounded, not in loveliness

But in that ravenous desire to offer another all I have become

#3

Dear Sir,

I write in application

To the position you once took

On dreams coming true.

On hands that know their way around

On (excuse me here) a mouth made for kissing

I heard you were seeking

A heart made from Joy

A holy will to step into harness with wisdom

With that understanding that goes without words

I am bold to say I am she.

I am an invitation to love

Ever-ready, not mother, nor sister, but blessing

A match waiting to be made of heaven.

I am a story written by a child

#4

Before I knew words, but only sound

Despite my years, there is that of me untouched

Calling life in, for I am greatly hungered

One day I will be set as a feast

For the man that is my wave rushing to shore

The one I shall never whisper back from

I am the hook & anchor for your love…

That last swallow of honeyed tea where all the sweet resides.