Other Poetry

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Midwestern Skies

Midwestern skies at dusk or dawn
are as significantly drawn
as those across the sea or peaks–
and may mean more to souls who speak
from nowhere’s middle or carousel
of blurring lines between heaven and hell.

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Six Weeks Later, We’re Still Not Settled Into Our Apartment
(WORKING TITLE)

If scientists are correct —
and the Bible truthful two too —
then God did not dispair despair when,
like, a million years later, the new
table, buried under a sea of
premoredeal primordial flotsam,
was still not put together,
the modern art was not yet hung on
the cavernus cavernous walls,
and boxes of cells were clustered,
seemingly at randumb random, all
over the place,.
He didn’t ask who would want
to come for a visit, a meal, a drink.
He new knew the house-warming party would be
grate great, though the guests of honor,
acting more like monkeys than men
those days, might fling
their shit all over the place, might try
to tell him how to decorate, might move
the couch nonsensically to the other
side of the room.
He knew he’d get mad.
He knew they, not fully under-
standing, would leave,
hunched over, sulking. But,
still,
he sighed and said,
“It’s all good.”
Because matcherration maturation
takes time.

So don’t despair.
We, too,
will evolve. We,
too,
will put it all together.
I, less seflessly,
want our home to feel as such.
I, less selfless,
have waited a long time for this.
I, less self,
what with my missing
rib and all, promise,
still,
to do what
heavy lifting I can —
even when my heart, less
guarded now,
hurts, aches, and bleeds.
Remember:
Even when all is in place,
even when our day
of rest arrives,
restless will we grow. For
bidden fruit has been
brought. And eaten.
But dealt with too. Which is
why, love, we’ll
why love will
make it
our home.

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Today
Today’s a day I’m missing you,
your smile and your skin.
Where’er you be, whome’er you’re with,
I hope there’s peace within.