Upon technical difficulties with a friend.
Tall-tale fears I’ve heard them tell:
man’s fate at the hand of rogue gadgets.
Ne’er had I worried for myself, I admit,
but none ever told of such foibles!
Our petty phones— nay, pocket nymphs!—
have worked such rascal mischief
to keep far friends yet further still.
What joy could be found in such plots?
On Repentance, a hymn
With every edging of the sun
must I repeat, “I’ve been undone”
to meet what lofty ledgers need
to know my sin lords not over me?
But I over that, by another’s power
do wield might, each moment, each hour.
How might I tire, save that grand sight
is given simply for delight!
What vision is this blinding day,
but he who stood in judgment’s way?
In memoriam: of a baby crane
Sweet was the sight of the three of you,
wandering comfortably through our yard.
Calm were your steps, and your calls were familiar;
when noticed, your love brought us joy.
To see you now is to see you alone,
to wonder why death couldn’t wait.
I selfishly hope never such for myself,
and shirk duty, that age-old mandate.
The Dinner Party
The aftermath was overwhelming:
piles and stacks, greasy and stuck.
The consequences would be lasting.
Everyone saw it; they all watched him leave.
Lemon rinds in coffee cups,
highballs upside down in bowls,
not quite regretting
—but that word came to mind—
and never remorseful, though certainly sad,
She considered just walking away.
Out the blue door, down the sidewalk,
in sunlight, miles take moments,
yet street lights grow dim.
A glint makes her blink and
she’s back, elbow-deep.
While beams dance on billowed suds,
she sips old wine.