Select Poems

January Man

Framed in moonlight and silver silence

the river of you slips into backwater

of frozen days, claims space with mute grace

the way our worlds always blend together

in the mandorla of shared nights—firelight,

skin taut over youthful torso, ripe

for healing balm—my body refusing to maintain

distance, drawn to warmth like a cat, your

restraint a magnet for my guarded soul.


Today, weary from the dance, I put away symbols—

fold the crimson towel, draw the curtain,

place the oil in a niche where it will remain

untouched for another year. Boot prints

in snow have melted, and only the cat watches

when I touch your napkin to my lips and bind

the satin scarf around my neck—

retrieve the hidden key,

lock the door.


the scar is tough

sore and bruised

tissue radiates

out from it and

pulls at muscles

between ribs and

when I massage

and soften it

the pain eases

and I learn

how simple it is

to touch a wound

to knead my breast

to feel the soreness

to cup pain


I am the morning tree

with shattered limb.

Fall’s glory shines

from my boughs,

but natural symmetry

is gone, felled

by one random burst

from the wind-god’s mouth.

Men in orange canvas

sheared my left branch,

treating the wound.

Now I am a truncated

silhouette leaning

into the sunrise. Still

I stand tall and wear

my broken wing

with pride.

Sometimes I grieve

my former loveliness.

But life demands

only present offerings.