Sweet-suckled Slovenian lips–
Cleveland where I found you,
Columbus were you lost.
Some days a black blanket
we would lay under to seek stars
seeking something cold &
how our temperatures dropped
over the years. We’d burn nights
matchstick young, whiskey and coke,
peel clothes to cool– so the blades.
Puckered and bundled, how to cut
& create tiny crescent moons.
(originally published in The Penmen Review, 2018)
Wait for the sun to shine past noon.
Palm trees quiver in a vortex of goosebumps.
The universe revealed itself
as a skeleton in the sky.
Vertebrae wisps, stoic.
Jets soared through bone rings
and whispered softly to faraway swans.
Gaze into the galaxy – golden
stalagmites in deep caves – we understand
that we scatter like gulls
only to congregate again
and dance above the sea.
All the swirling rainbow colors
in the reflections from puddles
unravel the universe
from a spool. As
thread slowly sways,
what we understood.
(originally published in Syzygy Poetry Journal, Vol. I, No. II)