Poem: the miracle

Will the miracle begin on time?

Will there be an opening act?

Will there be an intermission

To step out for a snack?


Will no refunds be given

30 minutes into the show?

Will it be everything they promised

And when it’s over, can we go?

Poem: Elizabeth

When I write Elizabeth

I do it without shame

or regret

but with intensity

as if we just met

because it is Elizabeth

when I write Elizabeth

there are standards

that i set

and many things

i must not forget

because it is Elizabeth

when i write elizabeth

i use a secret alphabet

that all may read

but none may get

except, of course

Elizabeth

poem

in a climate of hunters we became prey. out in the headlights we lost our way. did you not see the signs. did you see the threshold. once we were crossed, we forgot we were bold. time was much louder then. as were we. could nothing restore what we meant to be. no escape. no remorse for our public display. living. working. dreaming. the hunters are on their way.