Night

The future is a projected cone of light

We hurtle toward but never overtake,

Demarcated by rhythmic slashes

Thin and white, evenly spaced

Like so many routinary, endless days.

I focus on light and night, known and unknown,

On trajectory and stopping distance,

Until the startling flash of your green eyes

Grabs my attention for a treacherous instant

And registers on the insidious device

That tracks the pulse of my heart’s desire.

 

 

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The Way

The path of desire
does not follow right angles
or obey the warning signs.

It cuts diagonals across vacant lots,
crawls through holes in chain-link fences
and treads on broken glass.

Bloody footprints mark the way,
one set flat and wide, the other
with narrow heels like ripe red plums.

 

Previously published at Contemporary American Voices, Lisa Zaran, Editor, where I was the featured poet in June 2012. To read my work and the poems of my invited guests Joanna S. Lee and Bryan Borland, scroll down the left column at Contemporary American Voices and click on the June 2012 link.