A Sonnet

We trudged through the darkness one late rainy night
Big Ben persisted to toll through the fight
We looked out over the river, the one called La Seine
And took comfort as bells rang out counting to ten
This winter is cold now and the look in your eyes
Has led me to dreaming and sleeping and sighs
These clouds grow more suffocating each day
Desperate I claw for escape, let's away
I need sunlight and starlight and streetlights for that
I need laughter I've known since my youth and to pat
Absentminded, gently, the head of a dog
Whose touch might bring clarity to my brain in this fog
It is dark here now; don't you see, all's gone dark
And the London bells toll 'cross the sea in some park

Nausea

I feel nauseous

This morning my fish died
Or was it last night-
I couldn't tell you his exact time of death
It was sometime while I slept;
I, swathed like a babe in mountains of blankets
He passed away of fish hypothermia;
I had left the window open all night.

I feel nauseous

Hypothermia is supposed to be a peaceful way to go
They say you go into a state
Of euphoric shock
"So really," he said
"Right before he died, you gave him the greatest
Trip of his life."

I feel nauseous

He comes into my room in a panic;
I haven't been responding to his text messages.
The fish tank lies turned over on the floor
The small green pebbles scattered over the rug
Even pieces of his old fish food
Bloated with water, uneaten
Still clinging to an artificial tree.
"Don't worry Baby," he tells me.
"We'll buy another fish. It won't die this time."
He takes my hand.

I feel nauseous

Driving in the car
I turn up the stereo:
He turns it down.
"It seems to me like you've been awful distant lately
Ever since Valentine's day.
Are you doing alright?"
I turn up the stereo. I'm fine.
I let him grab my hand.

I feel nauseous

"What are you thinking about?"
He asks me in the restaurant.
We're eating salads, or at least
He is, and I'm holding a fork.
Nothing, I tell him and smile.
I'm thinking about metaphors
And the strange parallel of events
That occur in life.
The fish, my fish, it died.
I know that's significant somehow.
I'm fine, Babe. I jab my fork distractedly.

I feel nauseous

A Poem About the Day of St. Valentine

Elvis wrote the greatest love songs
Of all time
Or was it Elton John?
There are a million playlists
With a million songs
Because they say if you can't say it with words
Then you can with music
And probably chocolate-
A hand-made card,
Flower bouquet
And an over-sized teddy bear with a leering grin
Will definitely express how you feel.

I am not opposed to Elvis
Or Elton John
And goodness knows I like chocolate-
On any other day of the year
Flowers creep me out
And I'm not five, so no teddy bears please and thanks.

I'd rather you just tell me
Look me straight in the eyes and
Just say it:
You're sexy.

After Amanda's Poem, "Flight"

Flight

By Amanda Irwin

Your heart pumped gently under 

the curvature of my ear;

wings beating low and deep.

Inspired By

I grew up holding babies
During Sunday service
Held darling infant boys in my lap
That peculiar, indescribable scent-

The sweet down of baby hair-
Mingling with my own Sunday perfume
As they rested their delicate skulls, so unknowingly vulnerable
Against my breast
And sighed.

Heartbeats mingled
And I felt a duty I had never known
To protect a child; not my own
I thought of him- of each of them- growing up to be a handsome young man

And all the ladies fawning
And I wondered if I would tell him
That I held him when he was small
And I held him when he cried;
I thought about his future.

Tonight I nestle in the crook of your arm
Carefully place my fingers against
The fighting pulse in your neck

I kiss your earlobe and sigh;
Consider how much older I am now

And no one holds me in their lap
I cannot rest my head against my mother's breast
Instead I have taken on that role

And yet

I still need to be held.

Just as that little baby boy
Will someday turn seventeen
Or twenty-three
Or thirty-two
And he too, will wish he still had a beating heart 

Against which to rest

His head.

Moving to Western New York

When I came here, I kept my head down
When I walked across the streets-
Where I come from
We don't smile at strangers.

When I came here, I bristled
At doors held open for me-
Where I come from
We walk as if we alone exist.

When I came here, I felt wary
At the strange openness in the faces-
Where I come from
We have our blinds pulled
All day long.

I still find it unsettling
But I am learning to smile more
Be suspicious less
Of the metaphorical hand,
Stretched out toward me.

The Words The River-Merchant's Wife Said

We read this poem in class and
One line stood out to me:

I desired my dust to be mingled with yours

Forever and forever and forever.

Would you think me a cynic-
Call me Negative Nancy, the glass-half-empty-girl,
Or some sort of raging feminist-

If I told you that I don't think I could ever
Ever
Ever
Feel that way about another human being?

I promise you it's not nearly as glamorous as all that.

No, all it really boils down to is
Cowardice.

Relationship Series #4

be still my wandering eye
i never felt your guilt settle
in the pit of my stomach like
so many bad burritos
till now.

be still my wandering thoughts
you are tethered now to one
who smells of sweetness and has soft hands

do not you enjoy it?
has this not been your desire
for some five years now?

lay your head down and let it be cradled
in the arm crook of security
you are safe here.

but is safe what you really wanted?
yes
is passion actually what you wanted?
of course
can both be had at once?
i should like to think so
are you simply restless because you have been
tied
down?
probably

probably.
but source discoveries do not always eliminate the problem.

ah- be still, be still
my wandering eyes, my wandering heart.
settle down my searching hands.
lay my head across strong shoulder.

this must be adulthood.

Vinyl [The Essence of Hipsterdom]

In high school I had no interest
in old bands, like Fleetwood Mac.
But-
The big box under the Christmas tree
Was a turn table from my best friend:
Fleetwood Mac sounds so good on vinyl.

Image Poem # 8 [Rib Cage]

This lamp recalls a
Twisted, metallic rib cage.
I entwine my fingers with each bone
As if in this way I
Could keep you anchored to me.

Image Poem # 7 [Bride]

The diamond on her finger
Glints every time it hits the light
And yet she dresses
In the colors of mourning
And walks with her head cast down.

Image Poem # 6 [Dear Detective]

Wine stains
On the carpet
Are the only clue
As to what happened here
Last night

Image Poem #5 [Snow in Lamplight]

When I was young snow
Fell
Illuminated only
By lampost lights
All was dark except for a swirling patch
Revealed in gold

Image Poem # 4 [Coffee]

Coffee black:
A drop of cream hits the center
And swirls, ripples to the edges
The coffee turns to the color of
A springtime fawn

Image Poem # 3 [Tank Cleaning]

The fish swims tiny, angry circles
Bumping against all sides of his temporary prison-

A dusty shot glass-
Before being unceremoniously dumped
Back into his tank 

Image Poem # 2 [Creases]

These fingers have
Smoothed the creases on a page

Massaged the creases from an aching back
Traced the creases of my palm

Image Poem # 1 [Old People on Benches]

A haggard man drinks coffee on a bench
Wearing a Stop & Shop apron,
Smoking.

Across the center
A prim old lady
Positions her body away from him.

Does It Annoy You

Does it annoy you that
I eat apples in church
Crunch, Sermon, Crunch
Pick the fruit flesh from my teeth.

Does it annoy you that
My breath
Always smells either like coffee
Or Listerine
So strong, too strong.

Does it annoy you that
I always steal your fancy phone
So I can play that game where you connect
The colored dots;
I almost always fail at it
You always end up doing it yourself
The same way you connected, one night,
Our hearts.

Does it annoy you that
I can never stop the words from my mouth
That I feel I must fill all our silences
Just as I try to fill all the gaps between
Your brain and mine
And the way that we think

Does it annoy you?