winter sunset
waiting for your train
a goodbye kiss

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Moon in skies
crescent one eyed
lumbering in clear skies
clouds will refresh
memory.

It was slight
like a feather tip
cutting into
consciousness,
barely visible
like the thirteenth spoke
of a back wheel.
Like a wind chime
augmenting
the shallow currents
of the approaching gale
we all
anticipate
yet turn our
backs upon.

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Happy people make me sick to my stomach
Without rage and disgust what do you really have,
I’ve probably got enough money to ride this life out
The struggle though was much more gratifying.

Like the tapestry tissue
of a spider’s web,
slung low on gorse
is that path long passed
which holds,
in its cold stone,
regret alone.

The lifeguard perches like a fish hawk,
eyes alert to crawl or sidekick faltering,
his trim, muscular body empowered.
Behind those sharp eyes a sharp scene
he wishes he had dreamed,
of a beach last summer,
of a toddler screaming,
while he was dreaming.

I still find pieces
you left behind, small
memories captured in
still life photographs,
a strand there, a filament
here, evidence that you
filled this space, even
though you have moved
on to other plains.