Sunday, October 12, 2008


(apparently I have always been obsessed with bugs......)

So effortless. I only moved my hand
And pressed one fingertip upon the stone.
Not even pressed, just placed. And that was it.
That winged speck of life that crawled alone
Was no more than a blot upon the grey
That looking back I couldn't find again
Once I had turned my eyes another way.
And yet, that was a life. It once had been
A little point of wonder, even it,
The center of a cosmos so minute,
And yet, to it, unknown and infinite;
And I had stopped that life. The things we do!
One finger from a bigger world reached in,
And world touched world.
It never even knew.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

...any suggestions for a title?...

He came upon her from behind.
What have you there?
My heart, she said.
He touched her shoulders, close and kind,
Face near her hair,
Warm breath, bent head.

I love you. May I have your heart?
She turned her head
And smiled up.
You've had it from the very start,
You know, she said,
Hands like a cup.

But it's in pieces. What is this?
And some are torn,
And some are bruised.
And here touched by a stolen kiss,
And heartache-worn.
Why is it used?

And she could only hold it up,
And look at him as though he knew,
Heart throbbing in her fingers' cup,
The beating fragments shining through.

My friends. I've nothing to confess.
I loved them so.
And that's just me.
It doesn't make me love you less.

He nodded,
Though he'd never see.