A Million Morning Moments (or some other uncountable number)
A million morning moments
call me to bed each night
for how could I awake
next to the warmth
of your belly big with child?
If I never came back
How could I discover dreams
are ment to enhance reality
rather than betray or perplex?
Without first learning the allure
of two ice cold feet searching
under a covered world for heat-
A voyage I once loathed -
How could I come to embrace
you – even in your coldest moments.
Yet I resist closing my eyes
and reutrning to rest
until a reluctant kiss I pry
from the woman who makes
me want to wake myself each day
but whose tranquilty
lulls me to sleep each night.
A Face in the Fire
I see his face in the fire
burning, burning burning,
she sees him too
she says he’s screaming, screaming
I am envious of his consumption
his assumption
the bright brillaint removal
of his place in the world.
The crowd gathered sips
alcohol and dances
forgetting the man, not knowing the man
upsetting, enraging, pitiful
but ultimately understandable
by the two of us who watched him go
burning, screaming, ascending.
