New Poems

Necessary Cold

We were there for so long

the night turned

back to steel blue

and it was morning.

When we finally collapsed

into tangled fingers,

the only attentions we made

were the idle circles of

our thumbs,

motions felt over

from dancing earlier

around the fire, careful

not to get too close.

We were steeling ourselves

for something

we both knew

and couldn’t say;

it was a necessary cold

that night

because we couldn’t help

the warmth we made,

the fire we danced around

when there were

other reasons to consider.

Not that reasons

ever changed much

by morning;

reasons only saved your touch

from turning cold

like steel.

Brittleness

On the platform

puffing in the brittle morning,

I am passenger waiting,

I am train arriving,

I am in motion and

I am inert.

Train and passenger

bound in breath

by the early light developing

all around us,

bound in path

by the tracks that take us

through the motions,

the stations

in the distant grey air.

Bound in duty

to reach some destination

together,

we send off

as the morning breaks,

brittle as always

from the tight binding of things.