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Christmas Mystery
This could be an Agatha Christie novel Three men, two lungs, one liver, countless bottles Not enough drugs Just hospital discharge summaries and sad phone calls from families There’s no instrumental music that could put my heart at ease Pulseless is the theme, the tune What is a doctor or a lowly nurse to do?
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Two Men
What was on his agenda that day as he walked out of the Hilton that morning Someone knew He set out in a blue, pressed, tailored suit Evil lurked and came behind What was in their minds? Were both thinking about bank accounts After a killing, the internet shouts They were two men with two
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Tightrope Dreams
I revisit high school in my dreams My subconscious provides a kind of behind-the-scenes 20-years -ago when basketball and cross country, grades were everything In basketball practice in the afternoon, sunlight used to filter in How the hardwood floors and backboards would glisten At 14 I had every hope My parents and my friends’ parents,
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My Hammock
I’m swayin’ Watchin’ the waves wavin’ They rise and fall as I move back and forth I’m not sure if I’m headed south or north For though I sway The world and its worries are at bay I’m at ease I’m suspended over the sea With a book in my lap and in my hand
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Behind the Railing
I asked him where that bird was going Its legs outstretched Black and white feathers glowing In an amber sky the Lord had sketched Behind the red painted railings of the cruise ship He said the bird was just going for a flight like we were going for a stroll Then he kissed my lips
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The Inevitable
There’s a million things to be done Pack for my trip later this week Go for a run Check my in-box Sweep Oh, and the dishes in the sink And all the things I need to read The paper, that book about maximizing time, that medical article online But my dog wants to go sit
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Steve Pilot
The plane had landed She woke from a deep sleep Exhausted from all that her ex-boyfriend had demanded Or was he an -ex? She couldn’t quite tell from the last text – I love you She added his name, Brett, to the list At 35, getting married to a good guy and settling down was
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Porch Clothes
She led us out to the balcony A 2nd story addendum overlooking the sea The walls inside were white I envisioned myself like a kite Floating down to the beach Or inside, nestled by the fireplace Or just outside, on my personal deck Was it all a waste? What the heck? She said it was
writings on life
gremlin fodder 