There are moments
Hung suspended
A string of lights
Still lit,
Long past the season,
A few bulbs, dead with time
But sat there,
Bathed in a carnival of light,
All festive colours
Even the cheer has a dim memory,
But the shadows matter as much
As the light they oppose,
And between them both
I sit
And hold your hand
Grounded by the weight of the
Unresolved lust
Slow and heavy
Almost adolescent with irritated
Acceptance
Coiled and ready to bite
Spit and clutch until
The poison drains away
Never more alive than when
I lean into my hunger
Bend you over and make you gasp
Raw and impolite
As ever, gentle ferocity
And clumsy with release
I struggle to breathe with it
Aware and awake,
Sullen animal with your scent in my nostrils
And, baby girl, it’s driving me
Mad.
Being good
Practices
Magic spells to ward old devils away
Being able to leave your phone unattended,
Without the low hum of fear
Running nails down your spine
But no one notices
Because you’re supposed to
And no cookies for the bad boy
Who is being a good man,
Coffee with my devils,
Black, no sugar
But he ladles dessert spoons worth,
Into his
She’s asleep,
Could go through and tell her,
But no, goodness is simpler
And I don’t beg
There is no notion of getting lucky
There is
There isn’t
I know magicians
And she told me about
Compassionate compromise
So, in the wan hours of morning,
Sat and talking,
With my demons,
Educated to a point of refinement,
It is almost invisible.
And the only things cut are
The horns from his head,
But sometimes,
They still sting.
All now is father,
Bear the pangs
With aplomb
Voice in the throes of
A roar and how much better
To be heard than to find
No one was listening in the first place
Say less, act more,
A little more kindness and gentle ferocity of spirit,
Here, no hope but action.
And when you find weariness
Has the force of gravity,
I will be your column.
No matter how deep the cracks
Go inwards
Is it the years I’ve lived?
Could be they were mostly ugly times,
Remembered through the veil
Of years,
But the calliope music is loud
Like God requested the age
Be the ridiculousness
And even the fervent gather information
Present it as evidence
Or clutch their pearls in
Masked indignation
And the clouds gather
There has always been the
Threat of rain
But I opened my coat
Come shelter
I’ll tell you stories
Until it passes
Sit down
Rest your head on my shoulder
Because in person,
I’m quiet with you because
The act of listening says
How I feel more than fragile words
Ever could
And even if you are silent
I still pay attention
Because so many people
Scream at the dark
And it tires me
How about you?
So sit
Remember this is all
We have
And even if we hadn’t met
In person
I would have known you
Even wearing a suit of words
But sit,
Tell me things
