Yellow Noon
Her golden hair fell long
like a blonde horse's tail,
lashing back and forth
as she galloped
down the beach,
pristine as she could be
under the sun at noon,
her red suit the only color
in all that yellow day--
but it is the icy January chill
that marked her with its winds
so sharp that her heart
was temporarily lost
in the wilderness of grief.
One could barely detect
it now--how she sorrowed--
for she is sun-drenched
and gleeful in the half-smiling day.
Fate Passed its Verdict
Over and over again
we are born together
into new life--
our tangled web holding us,
me always looking back,
you always looking ahead,
but we fell out of each
new passage linked together,
hooked elbows inside elbows
and back to back--
never knowing that we should
have passed face to face
if we wanted our journey
to go forth into the mystical
daylight of forevers.
Refusal
The rain refused to yield to sun,
so all the dark day
the water slicked
the street oil,
and the train thundered
by, reverberating off
the apartment walls,
shaking everything,
even the lampshade
sitting on the television--
the train sounding off like brass
at a funeral.
Mystery, Hard as Diamonds
The wind blew back
her shoulder-length curls
as he smoked his pipe,
trying to convince her
to take a trip come morning,
to go where the candles
never seem to blow out
and the lovers never quarrel.
They await the train.
Soon they nest in a paradise,
drink together and dine
on fancy foods, speak of the past
and rejoining. He offers her
some jewels to fashion
about her neck--she doesn't
let him see her slight disturbance--
hides her expressions beneath
a hat-brim in the sunlight.
They climb the staircase
come evening, the richly textured
wallpaper and furnishings glinting
in the light from outside,
the shadows of the trees
on the walls, their dark
reflections in the mirrors--
as dark as the mystery between the two--
a contrast to their apparent
lightness and ease.
Smokin'
Tea-lights on the tables,
rain outside the windows,
swans painted on a glass divider;
outside white lights flash
on and off in patterns--
fake stars, the booze pouring
easily as the piano man plays
his quick jazz-style, oozing with youth
and confidence. Red bow on a white shirt,
holiday cheer. Classy-style music
rivets attention, lounge-dwellers
hooked on the sweet sound.
A woman wearing blue earrings
that sparkle--fake snowflakes--
slips a five into his glass--
a train rolls through town
vibrating the bar, the clank of metal
and far-reaching horns--
some people go home,
use the train like a clock--
but the youthful pianist plays deep
into the night, not leaving
till the owner cleans up the place,
his music dancing off his fingers,
the final night's note lingering.
