art music poetry

Eve in Fall

Maples blush
apples blush
your cheeks blush

Bite the fruit Eve
Then share it
The drip is cold on my chin

The serpent lives
in the track of juice
and in the hiss of the fireplace
that will get too warm
for these sweaters

***

As you were dying
My thought were not of
The darkness of the grave,
But of your eyes,
Blue as the sky,
Warm as the ocean,
Caressing hands
And loving heart,
A son
A brother
Husband, father,
Lover, friend,
and when I die
my last thoughts will be
of you.

***

MIA . . . His Coming Back
——————————————————————————–

And they waited for his coming back
From this war that never ends:
The unkempt lawn, the untended tree,
The faded plastic chairs,
The narrow rusty gate
And its crying hinges.
His mother, his brother, father and sister,
All frozen inside time: withered
In winter, bowed from days of grief.

His family is certain there will be a day
When he suddenly comes; then everything
In this place will start to move: the grass will grow,
The tree will carry its fruit, the plastic
Chairs become polished, and the narrow
Gate will start to turn, will open,
And never close again.

If only he would come back, only just appear:
The bubble of time will burst,
Their scarred hearts will beat smoothly,
They will drop to their knees, slowly,
And lift their eyes to him,
Weeping their thanksgiving prayer.

***

Gone
Everybody loved Chick Lorimer in our town,
Far off
Everybody loved her.
So we all love a wild girl keeping a hold
On a dream she wants.
Nobody knows now where Chick Lorimer went.
Nobody knows why she packed her trunk.
A few old things and is gone.

One with her little chin
Thrust ahead of her
And her soft hair blowing careless
From under a wide hat,
Dancer, singer, a laughing passionate lover.

Were there ten men or a hundred hunting Chick?
Were there five men or fifty with aching hearts?
Everybody loved Chick Lorimer.
Nobody knows where she’s gone.