Toy Boat (a poem) - [2016]

Toy Boat

A toy boat drifted down the stream –

an empty sailing ship.

It crashed upon the river’s edge

and bobbed its head a dip.

Its sails were thumb-stained fabric,

and the wood was MDF,

and it tilted proudly to the sky,

emblazoned ‘Mary Beth’.

I pulled it from the riverbank;

it dripped its waters free;

then I set it down again

so it could carry on to sea.

Pin (a poem) - [2015]

Pin

When his heart broke, it        ruptured,

    fissured,

                  and                                    burst:

ricocheting              shrapnel               to           carve        out        his          chest

His shredded lungs

                                                                                                hung link scraps of

popped

balloons

His ribs stayed,

claw-scratched,

scarred bars of bone,

across a gaping cavity.

A chunk of heart rose and                          lodged                                   in his throat.

He choked.

Dark fluid pooled in the cavern of his gut –

a crater

– overflowing

 – spilling

– staining him

He had always had a grenade

where a heart should be,

and when she kissed him goodbye,

it hurt like pulling

                                                                                               – the pin

There Are No Monsters Here (a poem) - [2015]

There Are No Monsters Here

“He has no eyes, they say!” he said. “And two great, hulking arms!

He has six horns that crown his head and fourteen clawing hands!”

“Rubbish!” cried an older man, casting a glower and glare.

“I’ve lived in these mountains all my life, and there are no monsters here.”

“But I saw him through the trees of glass!” the drunkard cried in turn.

“The beastie had black fur like night, and scaled skin like a wyrm!”

“Preposterous!” the old man croaked. “Your eyes deceive your sense.

Such visions are deceiving dreams, from bottles conjured hence!

Besides,” the ancient carried on, “if there were such a thing,

we’d all be dead – as said is said – and my heart is still beating.”

At this the drunkard raised his head and leased a terrible roar,

then monstrously – to disbelief – poured the old man in his maw.

The Sea Departed (a poem) - [2015]

The Sea Departed

When the sea departed, no one saw;

it drifted off to sleep –

picking up its waters and packing up its reefs.

The night was hot and grumbling;

the Earth was still and groaned,

but the sea slung on it coral-sack and bore off on its own.

The rivers joined it in its wake,

the reservoirs and streams,

‘til every lake and every pool had given up its means.

Then swashing up to atmosphere

and ebbing toward the stars

the sea released its whirlpool arms and drifted off to Mars.

On Earth, there was never a drip

nor drop to stir or save.

The seas had given up the dirt and left without a wave.

We wondered at our desert world,

and why the seas were gone –

we blamed each other for the loss – then blamed it on the sun.