Foundling

I sit in a small room
awakened from a daze
by the percussion of glass.
A small bird has been
drawn in by the splendorous
light of illuminated bulbs
wrapped around the plastic
branches of my family’s
Christmas tree.

But this bird couldn’t see
the barrier between
itself and the tree.
The promised haven
being denied by a thin
sheet of translucent silica.
Now she lies,
flailing in the bushes.
I bend over to pick
her up, and her eyes look
of trepidation. Or maybe
ecstasy. I am too young
to know the difference.

…freesia

This town reminds me of
her, as does the soft scent
of freesia in the wind I smell
passing a woman on the
street, and I turn my head.

Maybe if I had never
let that magical thing
pull away from me and
the strength of such a flower
distilled into perfume,
atomized into a fine mist
and falling onto the thin
blonde hairs where her neck
and her shoulders mingle,
sharing gossip long
since passed around about
her pregnancy scare when

I crushed her soft body
between my arms and felt
her in such a way I had
never experienced.
My heart beat against
her chest, and hot tears steamed
into the chill night air.
I pulled her chin from
my armpit, and I
fell into her from the
gravity of those majestic
blue planets staring at me,
imploring me to know
more than I knew,
and to have strength
where there was only
emptiness.

I took a deep breath,
and smelled freesia,
this reminds me
the freesia was only
floating in the air.

Candy Store

Here at this neighborhood store,
the children wait on the floor
and shiver & shake to their core,
while their parents patiently wait by the door,

A rotund jolly man named Billy Tudor,
wearing a knee-length lab coat made of velour,
stands by the mountainous bins that pour
forth jelly beans, gummy bears & candy corn.

A laughing man with one eye, the local bore,
tired these parents with impossible tales of the local lore.
Yet , near the children, they spoke not of this man, nor
could they have even cared. All they wanted was more,

more,
more.