poem for Michael

it should be noted
how the sunlit (or
sometimes grey) mornings
around the table -waiting
for you to finish
making grits, others
drinking their coffee to
wake up, me probably
already drinking a beer-
are missed, when
I wake up alone
without a plan
for the day.

in our full
house you never
had to look for a partner
in crime, you just
had to wait for
one to wake
up or come home.

abbreviation

I was too angry
to say good
night when my
mother said it
to me each
night without fail
during those years
trapped and confused
in my adolescence,
so I simply replied
an abbreviated “ ‘night.”
The omission was
not unnoticed, but
she never stopped
saying, “Good night.”
or “I love
you” even when
I replied only,
“You too.”

She wasn’t why
I was angry;
it was that
age, the trapped
situation, the people
and the hell
they formed by
being other; but
she was close
and constant so
that was where
I lashed. I’ve
always aimed for
marks I could
hit.

Laying beside you
tonight, I was
a mark you
could hit. I
said, “I love
you,” you said,
“Me too.”

My mother never
stopped saying, “I
love you;” neither
will I.

Looking under...

turning over stones
is the first skill
i was taught.

i know that
snakes and black
widows wait beneath.

that is why
rocks are rolled.
we look for
dangerous things to
take our breath.

that, and rollie
polies to make
us laugh.

blue magic

I've seen blue
eyes like that
before

they were also
yours: you looked
back

before turning to
walk away from
me

in the morning
sun they cast
spells

that i now
find I'm still
under

adrift...

what if i did live
like i insist i can?
cut ties that bind.
would i be fine,
drifting free and easy
like i might,
tumbling all around?

no chains
no tethers
no gravity to hold me down.
would i still know
at such great heights
tossed about like a kite,
would I still know
which way is the ground?

angels soar:
they were born to.
but what would a devil do
sent floating over town?

you'd look up
i'd look down
shouldn't it be the other way around?