For My Friend

Nighttime Errand

Just running to the store.

Enough to convince inquirers.

But bent light poles,

And the moonless sky

Remained doubtful.

On that bridge ahead;

The ice was thick enough.

The snow, heavy enough.

The time, late enough.

The traffic, quiet enough.

An accident—ready to occur.

He clenched teeth,

Held breath,

Closed eyes, 

And pressed down.

But then a tone and a light

Grabbed at his thoughts.

He looked at the screen.

I love you.

Nothing else was said.

He blinked away a tear

And cleared his throat.

The bridge came.

The bridge passed.

Time to get eggs then.

Revised-- You Poem 3

Continue on

Continue on trekking little ant,

Carry your crumb to sanctuary.

It’s closer than you think.

Revised-- Imagistic Poems

A Dying fly

On thin wings a fly spins

Like a child’s top

An Icicle

An icicle drips high above

A windshield;

Three feet of sculpted water

Dripping profusely.

Old Christmas Lights

Some bulbs of blinking white hang

Around rusted metal railings.

Two broke.

An Old Sock

Once sky blue, now grayed,

Ankle sock lies; half covered

By new snow.

Revised-- Fatherhood

Fatherhood

I watched as my son leapt,

Arms following the oil-weathered ball

As it coasted in an arch just over my extended reach

Through the slightly misshapen, flaking hoop.

His bright hazel eyes looked up at me (but no so far as before)

Through his thick brown mop of young hair.

An uninhibited smile stretched full, revealing

His boyish dimples, yet a man’s voice,

Cracked with elation, reaches my ears. 

This came sooner than I thought it would

I thought it impossible to be true, but then

I felt the stiffness in my joints as I stared at him,

Hopping in place on fresh, lightly haired knees.

With a heart splitting between joy and sorrow,

I held out the ball to my son, waiting for his grasp.

Game. 

Revised-- Stained

Stained

On this still night, no car is coming or going,

There is only a woman standing on the

Uneven shoulder of this back road.  Larger swells

Of air are tempting to lift her from the spot.

She can only imagine the sound of the impact,

Metal crushing his weaker metal.  The exclamations

Of drivers muffled by highly pressurized air.

As he stood and fell, walked and crawled away from

The twisted remnants of his car, past the faded white line,

What was foremost on his blood-filled mind?

Did he cry out for a miracle as his heart drained into

The asphalt?  Of her waking to the ringing of the phone

In the dark?  Of the children pulling at the ties around their throats?

She will never know.  So here she kneels down,

Running her fingers across the dark red stain;

The sound of her sobs unheard

In the dark expanse all around her. 

Revised You Poem 5

My Boy 

I just want you to know that,

You look good in the Easter suit

Mr. Simmons dressed you in.

I took it from your room yesterday.

Don’t worry, I didn’t move any of your things.

Everything will stay just as you left it.

I know you hate red flowers,

But this rose would look

Beautiful lying against your quiet chest.

Will you wear it for me?

...I’ll always love you,

I hope you knew that.

You Poem 5

My Boy

I just wanted you to know

I like the pleated suit

Your father dressed you in.

I know you really hate red,

But this rose would look

Beautiful against your tranquil chest.

I’ll just leave it and

Go.  Also, I love you.
I just wanted you to know