the moon’s lament

her heart is a dusty tome
waiting for you
to read it. her thoughts
are the tone poem
in the background
of your dreams.

her shadow contains
multitudes, strange sentences
in a foreign language
that you’ve never heard before,
whispering secrets
too soft to hear.

her silence speaks
with the susurrations
of the surf and the tides.

her darkness
calls to yours.
do you hear it?

robins

why am I suddenly
remembering that time
last winter when
we went for a walk
around the reservoir
and I’m pretty sure
you ogled my butt
when I came downstairs
in leggings and a normal
length tshirt and
it was bitterly cold and
I complained nearly
the entire walk
except when we saw
all those robins hopping
and bopping in the dead
trees and grass next
to the path and
I stopped dead
in my tracks and exclaimed
“Robin Redbreast! look
how many of them! oh
they’re so plump and
cute! how I love them!”
just like a real
manic pixie dream girl
but I really could have
watched them all day
and then we stopped
at Starbucks on the way
back to my house
and you had a long
blonde or grey hair clinging
to you and I removed it and
it was your mother’s
and then I got an unsatisfying
sandwich and when I
got home I found
my period had started?

Tropicalia

this place is wild with nature:
great green leaves like jewels
trembling in the rain with sips of
water held in their emerald cups,
little brown striped lizards
bopping and hopping around
like windup toys, sleek
dark grackles with feathers
that gleam iridescent in the bright
sunlight. at night the tree frogs
creak out their intermittent,
ugly song, while the pool
lights change colors with
aching, subtle slowness
like the way my mind changes
when I’m not noticing. I look
and they’re purple; I look away
and then they’re green. only the
steps and the walls remain
the same, like buried ruins
from some underwater civilization,
some long lost cousin
of Atlantis. I could live here
and forget about life
for a while.

a temple in the moonlight

remember that time,
last summer, I think, or maybe it was
more towards the fall,
after that group dinner, when we
sat in the park
and talked for hours?
our mutual friend came with us
but he left fairly quickly
and then we were alone.

we talked about politics,
if I recall correctly. remember
that little temple that looked so mysterious
and romantic in the moonlight?
I think I said the former
but not the latter. I was too
shy. apparently
so were you. or you didn’t
notice.

it’s a moot point now, but
for your future reference, when you’re
alone with a girl
in the moonlight
and she says she’s
cold, that might be a cue for you
to put your arm around her
if you so desire. and if she mentions
how beautiful the scenery is,
while staring longingly
at the moon, she might be wishing you
would man up and kiss her.
if you had the sense
god gave a flatworm, you’d know
that. or maybe you just lacked
the inclination. I guess I’ll
never know, but I’ll always remember
that night and how magical it was,
how it seemed filled
with endless possibilities. if I knew then
what I know now, I’d
probably remember it
quite a bit
differently.

big bee

there’s a solitary bee
who likes to visit me
sometimes. a big fat buzzy
bumble of a bee who looks
like he shouldn’t be
alone, he looks like he’s lost
his hive and his friends and
I wonder where he lives, where
he goes and what he does
when he’s not stopping by
to check out my terrace
and drive my cats
crazy with his slow drone
and deliberate hovering.

I also can’t help but wonder
why he even comes here
to my high aerie.
I have no flowers for him to pollinate,
no plant life beyond
my perennial herbs that I
sometimes use
for cooking. so what’s
in it for him
up here? is he just
fond of me?
is he saying “what’s
up lady, how
have you been?” is he
telling the good ol’ drones
back at the hive about these
little trips –
are they all laughing
at how I don’t wake up
until noon if I can help it –
or could he perhaps
love me in his clumsy,
bumbling way?

maybe one day I’ll learn
the true rationale
behind his visits.
until then I
merely smile and say,
“hello big bee,
how nice to see you
again.”