For D
Today
I wrote you a poem
and when you get home
I’ll watch you read it
and I’ll lick my sappy words
off of your fingers
one
at
a
time
their sweetness mixing with the
sweat and the dirt of
your long day
and I’ll let the bittersweet taste
of another year gone by
rest on my tongue
before I say I love you
and tenderly explain to you
that this is the gift.
The Love Seat
Our couch is too small
or maybe we are just too large:
our romantic evenings together, spent
drinking beers and eating chips,
have made our hips and
our love grow
too darn
big
!
Moving Day
Boxes marked ‘miscellaneous’
are heavy with all the little treasures
that make a house a home and while my
achy arms may rue the day I met you
inside a chest marked
‘fragile’ my heart
is light.
A nation (within a nation (within a nation))
that is imploding with petty conflict.
The world watches
our embarrassing domestic dispute
absentmindedly
as we throw our voices at each other
but catch nothing.
Where liberals are conservative,
separatists promote secularism in the name of Christ
and where even the most stable platform
has one fundamental screw loose.
Where the prefix multi- makes everything a dirty word.
But a thank you
nonetheless
to the sorry soul
who sharpened all the little pencils
with the belief
(are we even allowed beliefs anymore?)
that our collective voice will be heard.
Purple Toothed Grin 