Lesion and Pearl
Dark blue currents running
bicameral choices festering,
sweat prints on a happy-hour bar-rail,
traversed the gradients
between lesion and pearl,
ointments and toxins, gone beyond
the park’s high-beamed trees,
traffic hissing on the freeway.
Finding that riverside bench
once initialed porous, silvered by moon,
twin etchings added simply together
during a moon-lit courtship.
He sits watching a tug and barge
plow upriver, his eyes cupping
a quiet urge, finger tracing initials.
Solitaire at Dawn
The children of four days of rain,
having left the arms of spruce,
pool above roots and listen
as the black-haired goats
of evening slip inside loam.
The first crow call a beacon
void of promise for those
who play solitaire well.
The queen of hearts, heavy
with an imprint left by a mask,
waits to see which cards are dealt.
Then, we find a home
for the sad one-eyed jack
as fog trails mist
onto sliding glass doors.
Gray brush over the mural of one life.