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Covered

And in love with misery
Easing the feeling
The shallowness of breath
The pain in my lungs
And the reverberations
Of exultation

Hearing the melancholy on the radio
Measure for measure
Singing out my hope and spark
Drenched in lightening and

Sizzling and popping
Of bacon cooking
And humming to the depression
While doing dishes
And crying slowly
For the aching and the tearing
In my soul

Listening to your ghost
Playing in time, with me
With that sad radio
And the water from the faucet
The monsoon rains, beating on the tin roof

And I catch
In the faintest murmur
The fear
Putting my hand
On my belly
Feeling her heartbeat.

Coma Berenices

It is tawny and it is golden
It is brightest in the softest of lights
It holds sultan’s gossamer drapes in angst
And makes fools of loomed silk sleeves

Sitting in regality
Pleated beneath Corna Austalis
Roaring with each bend of her neck
And whispering perfect enticements in gestures of boredom

The perfume sails like jasmine
And wafts carefully, knowingly to me
Causing a stutter, and a stare, and a soft
Long forgotten desire

And I watch her sleep
In summer skies, as searing days blend to temperate nights
For a dreamy moment I reach out and dare to touch
Coma Berenices