This Land

"This Land"

With its gray skies and forlorn buildings

its sundered sidewalks and icy puddles,

one might feel comfortably broken here.

One might find solidarity among the barren trees

and muddy streamlets that run along the roads.

Seated on a concrete stump,

a street man stretches his legs.

Anchored beneath an empty bench,

a newspaper futilely trembles in the wind.

The wind is cold and yet it blows.

I join the sullen passengers on the city bus

and think of the words I was handed:

Sometimes people make situations,

Sometimes situations make people.

My dark coat fits me.

Surely this ground is ripe for

excavation, frozen though it is.

Threadbare arms reach for me,

extending from this desolate land.

"I Dreamed Her Alive"

I dreamed her alive

last night as I lay sleeping

We had aged, as evidenced by

the lines around our lips

And though we laughed, a

darkness surrounded us

What was it?

The immanent shadow did

not stop us from embracing

I awoke to a triangular pillar of pink

light streaming through the curtains

I held that moment somewhere in between

as gently as a downy chick in my cupped hands,

longing for the warmth of its former shell