heavy
on theatrics,
more than a touch
dramatic..
while in
make
up,
crowd gasps as
he steps
out
from behind dark
drapes,
in nothing but his
top hat and
a cape.
shadow play
caught a
spark,
boxed it up in
wooden
heart–
saved for warmth
starved
night,
when deeply
in want
of
your crackling
bright.
a romance, not for
the faint of
heart–
but yielding beyond
what i’d
wish-
had i taken
cues
from those who
no longer
kiss.
life of the raindrop
falls subtle
but rich..
and tugs on
a leaf
like strings of
a heart–
plucking tune to
keep from
the
fall apart,
life of a sunbeam?
someone else’s
dream.
pushing, pulling
clutching,
controlling, patrolling
no loitering,
deciding, reciting
delighting in
falling
‘spite not knowing
where or
how..
we’re
landing.
unhinged the
mirror,
hung it upside
down,
stood on my
head
till blood rushed
to my feet
same old face
staring..
back at
me.
like the kid with a
fistful of
coins,
but no wishes or
fountains of
fish
just his
own reflection..
in a puddle, begging
closer inspection.
i see your face
clear,
not here, but
clear,
i hear your voice
true,
‘least it sounds
like you
are here with
me too,
so, how am
i blue?
hail through a
window-
crouch behind the
couch,
until
it melts–
into a puddle of
much less
trouble..
barely
felt.
he
swung
traaapeze!
ballerina below shook
her leaves
to catch his
gaze..
on the prize-
his life,
in no position
to choose
a wife.
hands in the garden 
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