Her Face


Her face is in my dreams again
   so loveable and fair this time
so mild and full of pain

Only her lips are red
   but death will kiss them pale
and feverish as light


A professional comedian—
   though it made them all laugh
he hated to cry...
Sometimes, in order to fly
   through air, you must
hang by your arms, legs and neck


The mysterious nurse
   does the bop island healing
She arouses desire

Around her he wanted
   to be funny, intelligent and kind...
One more bop to go, a charm, before home


They dance together
   with little skill or pleasure
You don’t know or care where I’ve been

Her curiosity is easily satisfied...
   Truth is fine enough
when it’s what you want to hear


A sense of fiery drama
   a desire for secrecy
She wanted me to care

just a little bit less
   We teeter toward losing balance
then clasp each other close and true

He’s happiest and sanest when
   everyone laughs, the comedian
There’s no reason

It’s like rocks in a garden,
   silky weeds in the grass,
wiry red thorns in a light grey mist

-May 24, 2011-