May 2014

poem26 May 2014 08:04 am


Properly, it should be
– repay all the
of perception.

It should have no
beginning, must
at the very start
be already in
and no end.

Its theme should be accessible.

Whether it should have Time
is a question;
the pathos
and Death, its companion,
so often betray
poor taste.

Properly, it should
– clear; like all the
bells ever cast,

poem19 May 2014 08:57 am

“Aliens exist,” that’s what you told me;
By the gnarled oak tree where we used to meet,
Careful and discreet, for our nightly tryst.

“Don’t believe the lies they tell us,” you said,
Enraged, as you spread your arms in the air,
Fingers aimed up there, pointing to the skies.

Gently I soothed you, wiped away your tears,
Held you, calmed your fears, swore you would be fine;

If you would be mine, I would see you through.

Joyful by your side, I reached for your hand,
Knelt down as I’d planned, fumbled with the ring;

Love was everything, I thought in my pride.

Morning, noon, and night we were together.
No lovers ever held their love as dear,
Or held it so near, for we held it tight.

Perhaps too much so, for you were afraid;
Queer talk of a raid, ships set to deploy,
Ready to “destroy everything we know.”

So you insisted right up to your death;
Till with dying breath, you made your wish known:
“Upon the headstone, write ‘She Resisted.’”

Very soon, all lips bore a single strain;
Whispers of “Insane,” “Nut job,” “Dementia,
“Xenophobia.” Then we saw the ships.

You were right, you see. An army from space.
Zappers leave no trace of those who resist.
Aliens exist. That’s what you told me.