Discretionary Love

A new cry in the air. A bird saying a new thing or a new bird. Such familiar unfamiliarity hanging in the air, once and

Long ago, long ago in that new aquarium we met by chance. Each of us had habits we carried from before to keep from going

We may be made of pixels, but before he leaves for work, he leans over my still sleeping body and touches his lips to my

The back of your neck tastes like goat cheese crostini with fig-plum tapenade, shallot and pancetta tortilla crisps. Your shoulder blades amuse the bouche like

Ten rounds the sun since our shadows entwined along the morning path, danced in the dusk light. The gust swirls fallen leaves baked dry in

for men I have been  sex-kitten/goddess/mother/the hottest                              cherry red corvette/revving engine/tank

In a box I keep all the things I’ve lost: photos of faces long forgotten; places on postcards with no address; glossed over, all, by

Not the guy who knocked me up in high school. Nor the husband who stood on the balcony after our ceremony  looking as if he

her body crusted in fragile fabric, against the breeze that intentionally sinned upon the folds and curves of her tangled skin. my English soul in

Watch for a moment how his little feet brush the daisies polite as Spring rain, how dandelion fluff sticks to his raspberry kiss, how milk

We could soak in epsom & watch             our old layers drain clockwise let the salt encrust the pipes then

The voice I gave you was not my own because all I knew how to give were your expectations to close the quiet between us.

In my belly, in my arms, and on my back— when did I stop carrying you? What was the moment that, unknowingly, I eased you