Poll: holy night
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Voters: 2.
#1
just a ghost, just a love, I wonder, I wonder, where did she go?

she's a kind of wave
from the fingertip down the skeleton
to the tip of your longest toe
electricity, out and about and contained

she's a kind of perfect snow,
soft and blown from your hand,
blue bird, young and falling from it's nest
caught still by the spring grass
(whispering "that was quite a fall, little one")
cradled, pulling on the clouds with its beak
so surprised at its strength

she's a kind of third grade memory
Perry-Anne's palms rubbing wool
skin inches away
building static, building steam like a californian train
through the mountains (still young and kissing)
until it has nowhere to go
but into all of me

she's a kind of poem
that you keep under your pillow
whose so wrinkled and cried on
that she doesnt have corners no more
whose so loved and undone
that she's almost lost all her words

and she's a kind of rainstorm
that patters your window while you
breath her in forever
and breath her out
forever

she is


Sixteen, Maybe Less

Beyond the ridge to the left, you asked me what I want
Between the trees and cicadas singing around the pond
"I spent an hour with you, should I want anything else?"

One grinning wink like the neon on a liquor store
We were sixteen, maybe less, maybe a little more
I walked home smiling, I finally had a story to tell

And though an autumn time lullaby
Sang our newborn love to sleep
My brother told me he saw you there
In the woods one Christmas Eve, waiting

I met my wife at a party, when I drank too much
My son is married and tells me we don't talk enough
Call it predictable, yesterday my dream was of you

Beyond the ridge to the west, the sun had left the sky
Between the trees and the pond, you put your hand in mine
Said, "Time has bridled us both, but I remember you too"

And though an autumn time lullaby
Sang our newborn love to sleep
I dreamt I traveled and found you there
In the woods one Christmas Eve, waiting