Poems February 2013

You will have a home someday
The phone will be in its cradle
Not a crumb or an oil sheen to be seen on the counters

A clock ticks
Heel tick across the floor,
Stop at the base of the stairs then head up

The rooms are quiet like moved away kids
The bed is neat, warm
No piles of stuff
Books on the shelf

Toothpaste - one tube, no gunk on the end of it

The lights off magnifies a fire truck, the driver leaning on the horn
The fire is not here

Nor am I

Now we enter the time of magic and wonder
Where our mutual decay is
Melodious and interesting
And pain quickly becomes a memory
And more quickly are memories forgotten
The ripples on top of a pond cause more trouble than I
and are more lasting
I'm content, a match, a dandelion, a feather off the breast of a bird, a footnote on some
legal document
Know me by my symbols
And I apologize for never apologizing again

The wind takes me by the hand
And blows out the candle love

Love
Love
I no longer need to hear that word nor say it
But give it to a few