the weight

i loved your stretch marks
just above the crease of your thigh meets belly
pastel painted, light beige on tan
soft supple skin

i nibbled your earlobes
delighting in sucking air
through your empty piercings
you laughed and told me to stop
though it was always the first thing i did

you smiled and picked the strawberries off my back
put your popsicle toes between my nicely warm knees
woke me gently at 3 a.m. with your erotic sleepless cravings

that was then

something, now, I do not know
we’re no good anymore
each for each

if i am not what you want
then leave me now
let me not shrivel you
it’s such a waste

i will miss you some

i dream of locking with some soul that wants me
i am tired unto death
of living the life of your disapproval
if, every day, i am not enough,
why do you cling
as if i were one of those stunted milkweed pods
dried up, wrinkled, and never to open

Itchy and scratchy

God, I itch.

When they say it’s all in your head,

Forsooth, this time they are right.

The tympanic membranes

vibrate at a galling frequency

perhaps meant for Fido to hear.

But I cannot scratch

this bitch of an itch.

Scalp over scabbed skull I scratch,

helping along that balding patch.


(at least, that’s my belief)

But the stuff inside my meathead brain

it won’t be calm, and won’t refrain.

Miles and miles of duodenum.

Fold upon fold, in dreams I’ve seen ’em.

Oh, let me lift my lid now, just this once,

a give a good scratch, stir the stew.

Like that wretched Dr. Finklestein

from The Nightmare before Christmas.

the dance of Love

If you invited me inside
and put your trust in me
upon that trust I would abide
a friend to you I’d be

If I invited you inside
and chanced to let you see
emotions that I try to hide
would you confide in me?

we both have had a broken trust
and cautious we have been
we circle each and feel we must
keep distance in between

but now I feel the leap of love
and wonder if you do
your spirit fits me like a glove
my heart is beating too

Hand in hand

we, both of us awake
from the blessed sleep
after death’s embrace
the fluids of Heaven’s womb
drain from our eyes and ears
we lie
we look
our breath upon each other
a perfume
we hear, in gentleness,
a sighing soothing cacophony
we smell grass, fresh after a rain
we stand, with lightness of mind
we see, on the green hillside
a throng in white
some turn and beckon
into each others eyes we smile
then run, without flagging
hand in hand
into a welcome of open arms
there is lilting laughter
then a hush of anticipation
from the horizon’s haze we hear
the Overtures
played for eager ears this day
we journey long, without tiring,
for we know what awaits
at the End of Ends.

Lighten up

i saw a video on Twitter once.
Some family member or “friend”
secretly filmed a young girl
coming to sit down for dinner.
Someone asked her to get something out of the pantry.
They had hidden a stuffed raccoon inside the door.
She opened it and started screaming and running around.
Everyone laughed.
Girl looked like she wanted to cry.
Comment section went crazy,
congratulating them on the joke.
I said funny for everyone except the victim.
They said lighten up.


Under the skin, something poisonous.
Like an acid flowing,
as if from the Alien monster.
Watch out for the dribbling!

Often now, there are thoughts that reflect
that menacing countenance.
A wrestling match
(With an Angel, or Devil?)

Tenderness, not likened with love,
Pain’s manifest in the body glove.
Sore to the touch, no matter where.
Could be from cooking to medium rare.

The chef is the spirit
that wallows in sorrow,
and all need to fear it,
’cause it swallows Tomorrow.


It was nothing, really.
Some moments of playful affection.
A friendship understood, without words.
People looking, but we didn’t see.

You sat down table from me at the café.
I was talking to others,
but you flicked popcorn at me
every thirty seconds.
I played dumb, then pretended aggravation.
When the break buzzer rang,
I passed behind you,
grabbed your bowl,
and dumped it on your head.

You made me feel young again.
Desirable again.
In the thick of things.

Why did you do this,
and then walk away?
Walk away.

Hah….I must be your conquest of the day.
Yeah. That’s it.

I think you might just grow up to be
a crazy old cat lady,
because of the way you toy.

But, God, I miss it.
And I hope you stick around
so we can entertain each other.