a broken pencil
lead–
the thought left to
ferment,
in rest from
sleep
i feel the
grey
thick in my bones
today.
shadow play
on day’s front page
i read of
hate
then had a sip
of tea,
so frantically,
i scrubbed both eyes
as ink poured down
my cheeks
forming two black hearts,
inches apart,
i pray you don’t
think me
weak.
lately i sleep with my
ear to the sea
to perceive what’s
below,
do i hear
a faint echo?
like my own softened
voice
bubbling up from
the floor,
your deep water
whispers
leave me dreaming
of more.
i drop my wedding
ring into a
glass
to watch how quick
it sinks,
it’s senseless games
like these that
consume
me
when given time
to think.
bony leaf adorns
lit path,
the monarch
wing..
rests flightless on its
patch of grass,
in the middle of
a childless
park
on another sunday
starved for
song,
it’s rare that moments
this clear come
along.
in dispassionate
protest,
i chose to hold
silent,
where so many
times
i’d shared my
mind
and retched much
discontent.
watching two grey squirrels
warring in a tree
as i sip
drugstore tea,
the plumes of vapor
comfort me
while i too am
sparring,
just internally.
teasing just enough
of your story
to keep me
wading
in the telling
of a past
that held no
promise,
till you spilled
the secret.
callous whispers in
a tunnel..
underground,
where the ghosts
of engines
rattle and chill those
yet standing
solemn–
atop raised platform,
poised to step
into an even
darker
sea.
someday i’ll
take it,
that ride with a
a stranger,
knapsack in
the back,
eyes shimmering
silver,
one day we’ll
make it,
to that wave from
shore,
shrouded by
cool sea
mist
a welcome home
i can’t resist.
hands in the garden 
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