- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Goings on
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I tend my herbs,
last night's abstract dreams
still licking at my heels.
Somewhere over the other side of the country
my best friend douches
for a lover's farewell
My grandmother tries to breathe
away the fluid on her lungs,
and my sister has diamonds
on the souls
of her shoes.
My father is more careful
with the round bales
since we found out about
the farmer who broke his back
And we all keep pushing and prodding
this shell around,
creating realities
with fiction
and adorning them
with subtle deceits.
Somebody woven into the long ago fabric
of my childhood
stopped breathing yesterday
and his ghost
has not left my side all morning
A plastic, polka dotted umbrella
the only proper memory
I can conjure.
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