Sparrow Heart

Watching the sparrows today

I’m reminded of

Balkan birds and wild, wide sky

of sitting underneath

your smile as you watched me

across the table

my ever-so-loud heart

(though I knew it was

only the wine

that made you look that way/

look at me)

the next morning

when I couldn’t catch your eye

still my heart

thumped

hopelessly, giddily

and it was not the wine I felt

still rushing

through my head and heart

but something sweeter and 

more potent 

that sent my senses reeling 

far more than any spirit could.

At the Edge of the City

At the edge of the city

there are grasslands

where the sun lingers longest

at the end of the day.

I'd like to live there;

not in the blue-violet

shadows of the valley, but

at the edge of evening,

when golden strokes of

rich honey-light

lay like a blessing

over the sloping land.

Rainwater

Never have I been more

afraid of Reality

calling my name

sniffing out my scent

in the dark

latching onto my wrist

with cold strong fingers

that send a chill

seeping into

my trembling bones

like rainwater.

Red Apples

It's been so long.

Not since you left me smiling,

my empty face reflecting your own.

Once I could reach over your fence

to paint your tulips

red-golden in the truant sun.

Now it shuts me out.

Is your fence taller or my arm shorter?

No matter.

I am left with memories bright like

Chico blue sky, red apple orchards,

you on a good day...

I try to fit the pieces together

like a broken puzzle.

How did it come apart?

Endless questions chase empty answers,

and through the long nights

I find it easy to hate you.

It wasn't right, what you did to me,

but I find

I want you back.

Cherries

The sun poured down upon us, foreign sun, foreign warmth. We sat on a bench eating cherries.

Their sweet dark juice filled our mouths and our senses, overwhelming us with summer, and I remember I couldn't keep my eyes off you. On you.

Separated by other bodies, still we shared the cherries, our hands brushing as we filled them with plump weight. We shared their sinful sweetness.

Biting down, sucking greedily at the fruit, my tongue sought out the pit. I never know quite how to do it in company, and you didn't help.

So graceful in every way, your lean arms tossing the pits behind you, lips folding carefully around each cherry before pulling it in, you were every dream of sun and sweetness and the unknown. I ate and ate, filling myself with what we shared, becoming more like you with every mouthful.

I didn't mean for it to be about you. That, then, this. But it happened. Like this cherry that rolls from my fingers to bounce happily downwards, resting finally at your dusty feet.