She
She hangs kisses from my earlobes
sews our fingers together
with red wine thread
drinks coffee when I drink tea
and tea when I drink coffee.
She kisses the backs of my hands
with a warm mouthful of sunshine
holds me tight with ghost freckled arms
makes me cry with unbridled happiness.
I am drunk on this woman
dizzy from lips of ripe strawberry pie
who reminds me it isn’t
frozen February every day,
but sometimes it’s
a hot August night.
Losing
as age accumulates
it is the loss
of possibility that lacerates
my soul
old love
letters and
photographs recall the betrayal
of dreams long
ceded to adulthood
I stare at closed and
locked doors that
line the past
and the scarcity
of those left waiting
to be opened
as I walk towards
the vanishing point
