Not Choosing; Chosen

Although I strut like a bright plumed bird
I do not choose-
As a man, I am chosen.
I noted your face first I thought
but it was you who
selected mine. You
who arranged our first well-considered
copulation, who washed and aired
the sheets two days before-
You who arranged the hour.
I who complied.

#lovers #tryst #chose #choosin

GONE

I loved you for a moment, then
that moment was gone-
where once was life again,
now there is none.

I should have held on
to the flicker of light
that briefly flared like winter sun
passionate and bright.

I should have held onto your hand
in case I strayed
but I couldn't then understand
the price to be paid.


I couldn't understand that love
is not necessarily scheduled to arrive,
not stapled to a plan, that kind of stuff,
not an adjunct to being alive.

I knew only not to renew,
something I casually dispensed with;
I know when something is through,
when remembered with grief-

I said goodbye to what might have been
to quiet walks, caresses and days in bed,
I said goodbye to a beautiful thing
half remembered, once alive, full of wonder, now dead.

When the Rose's bloom darkens

When the Rose's bloom darkens

When the rose’s bloom darkens
When the mountains sink,
When the desert overcomes starkness
And life comes to a brink, 
When shade is clarified by light
And rain returns to cloud,
When day exonerates the night
And silence is too loud
And voices become deaf;
Then that’s when thankfully
Life replaces death
And what is, is no longer what is to be
And tears grow kinder
The air flows more gently
And gods grow ever blinder
And land returns to sea.