still the soldiers of urban islands,
guarding identical squares
of oil spotted cement for timeshare.
I hate them except when they’re broken.
Then they make my day.
Shouldn’t a small concrete rectangle
with no view
be free like the air we breathe?
yesterday we went down the lane / picked blackberries / wild raspberries / you called them
grapes / I carried you / our heads together / we laughed in each other’s mouths / followed
the path to the river / a small beach / stones in the water / your dad made the st...
The doctor laughs when I tell her my plan
was to give birth in the back yard, like my cat did her kittens
that it just felt like the safest place to me right now.
She says she doesn’t do house calls, so I’ll have to see her here.
She is leaning against the wall, sagging from no water.
No one notices as her flower fades and the petals fall again.
Hope springs eternally and naively as she shyly looks at the
boys who pass her by.
Invisible in spite of her bright colors.
At the hour of one she gath...
On the slow train from Cambridge
To Ely, I am sitting behind two Russians.
A couple, they are locked in conversation,
Oblivious to the fenland steppe outside,
The rain-steeped, raven-black earth,
This England in its midwinter rain.
I confess. I do believe in god. Not an all knowing
all powerful bearded old man on a throne in the sky.
No. No. My god is androgynous, sitting near me
In the coffee shop. Inconspicuous. Strong, but
flawed. With my god, I press my face to the sky.
And I feel the dri...