"Room 1416"

A minimal existence, waiting for news.
Varying between despair and anger,
trying to ignore the grisly terms
uttered with a doctor’s flippancy.

“Paralysis is a possibility. As are
spasticity, blindness, impaired thinking.”
Swallow reality’s bitter pill and smile bravely
between the bars of the hospital bed.

Reduced to a human socket
for intravenous lines. Tangled
in a spider-web of percentages,
survival rates and second opinions.

Life is the time between tests
when livid bruises fade to yellow,
leaving only the core jaundiced,
sutured by the toggles of a threadbare gown.

Pulse measured by the click and whoosh
of utilitarian technicians carving
their pound of flesh for the scale
with hands cold as death.

Defenses weaken and strength melts
into a pitiable alloy of past hopes
and present realities, diluted
by the maddening tears of the needle.

"Anonymous Aficionada"

Frustrated conversations of swirling Spanish

and pinging Indian fill my ears

as I stare and wonder

if your neck still bears the scent

of your morning shower.

I know nothing of your eyes

or your nose. Is it aquiline? 

Does it match the beauty of a squared jaw?

I can only content myself

with your damp blonde locks curling

bashfully under my gaze.

Supple skin summons images
performed in the cloak and dagger
hours of the night.
How my ample body would serve
as your map to realms of indulgence.

Delight, measured by the pliant curve

of your back arched under the pleasure,

and the moan unfurling from your clenched teeth

as your eyes flutter open to worship

the ceiling in rapturous disbelief.

"Lip Service"

I wish I could absolve the pain

you interred in my heart,

the drudgery of each formality that has followed.

Sadly, in place of your rapture

I accept the insipid envoys of sanctuary

and desultory adoration.

I feign composure, my lips secretly scuttle,

recalling the moments spent on well-worn sheets

and the satisfying flavor of a Marlboro light

passed between shared lips like a Communion wafer.

Amid the pleasure of remembrance

and the thin slices of pain,

my mouth mumbling the liturgy

waiting to be restored

as your immaculate conception.

"Janus"

You came into our world

and shook it like a snow globe

between your childish hands.

How could we have resisted

your saccharine smile and handsome figure

that compelled the crescent of conversation

to revolve around you?

You were more than my uncle.

You sat in family portraits

that now sit in oppressive attics.

Slowly, you gleaned the sparkle from her eye

and left her without animation, but 

we took her away from you before

you could pick the pockets of her soul.

When you came, I counted the days

until I would be considered “grown-up,”

and find a man just like you.

A Tom Cruise stunt double who listened

to Jimmy Buffett and tickled me as

we waited in line for 101 Dalmatians.

A lifeguard who taught me to dive

and rescued stray cats from starvation.

But after seeing the face you kept hidden,

I decided being mature

wasn’t so great after all.