Friday, November 14, 2008

Love & Despair

She lies amid the promises and pillows

on her side, fetally.

Nightdress riding her thigh and haunches,

exposing that which drove him to her.

The scent of her collides with shame

over his nature and acts.

Or was it a dream, her whispers of sad refusal.

He feels the cold leeching from her hips, shivers,

then joins her to him under covers, encircles her,

his fingers as a snake's tongue, searching, tasting,

the warmth of her breast a chimera.

He feels the cold impaling steel,

dips his fingers in the holy font,

and blesses himself in crimson.

V c2008


Tuesday, November 11, 2008


The eve of death disturbs the phone
of sleeping son and love alone.
Hospice calls a moment past,
the agony unshared, yet to be devoured.

As a stumbling alerts us to the pain
that will inevitably come,
yet begs our balance and resolve,
a futile plea to immortality.

And later, after public utterance
and tearful countenance
do they smile at motes of dust
and bow to God’s reprieve?

V c2008

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