One In A Million

burden fell from grace &
her voice held meaning
as she peeled the mask
from endeavour’s familiar face
and softly whispered,



it is not the rose’s thorn, buried deep
in your nature’s thumbprint
nor midnight’s misty mutiny, that drips
unto your earthen feet —
but the sting of loss, mirrored
in the chasms of your eyes
as you grasp Understanding
by its vulturous neck
& free yourself from torment.


wrap tattered heart in stoic plastic,
smooth the barren earth which you call home
what once you deemed enthusiastic
now grieves beneath your hollow, shattered dome.

so shall the rains unleash your sorrow
wash burden far beyond your lover’s touch
place careful steps, seek fabled tomorrow
for in the end, the hurt won’t hurt so much.

(Yep, I cheated with the meter. Ha.)

Ghost Town

will i find you
there ~
where sparrows swallow
milky, filtered twilight;
where curtains sway
in lonely brother’s mournful breath?

will i find you
kneeling ~
chipped nails scratching
dignity’s former grave
into dust-covered floor boards
yet again?

& we wander
between coffee cups and autumn homes
to whatever end.