The Well

Look down into the well, black water still
Our reflections own us and we them
An oil portrait in gray and heather
I see you laughing, beer in your whiskers
Cigarette dangling from your stained fingers
Explain to me the meaning of life, your life
How you stayed cold and indifferent
amidst a sea of children and laughter
How you never came out to play



I am
painted toenails
most days
but tonight
it's stockings and high heels
perfumed places you'll
eagerly discover
soft bits waiting
for caress
lace covering skin
then slipped away
over shoulders
and thighs
silken veils under
henna colored candles
shadows dance upon the blue wall
having no shame in what they are about to do



The lowly acorn on the forest floor
Scattered amongst the twigs and ferns
Who is to know
what lurks inside
it's thoughts
under it's cap

...an immense Oak providing shade
...a marriage proposal on a Spring day
...2 boys will become blood brothers under her limbs,
providing nourishment and strength
to the tree and each other
...a black man will swing from a rope
for being black
...initials carved and tire swings
...rake them up and jump right in

Roots a mile deep
A memory

Who is to know
that the tiny acorn
holds such
gargantuan secrets


That Morning

Wearing jackets made of dust
Powdered memories raining down
Hands clenched to briefcases
Bakeries and diners turned bomb shelters
Panic in the streets and in the fields
We were all covered in dust
and we trembled the same
that blue sky morning