A Woman’s Face


deserves to be kissed
for all the innocent love
missed. For pale 
sadness dressed
with tears, never blessed 
by brooding-darkened
years. Beauty burns
a woman’s face to be kissed 
before it dissolves in fears, with
barely a trace. Then, when 
beauty disappears, 
a woman’s face deserves 
to be kissed (softly) 
again (softly) again
(softly) again until 
it returns.

First published in Soul Fountain.



Dreams


As I would clasp you
about freckles warmly 
hugging your ivory 
shoulders
with one gentle arm,
but cup the crests
of your creamy breasts, in soft 
silence billowing, 
one then the other,
from all harm, with
one gentle hand
grasp my shoulders 
to stand, but cup 
my cheeks 
with the other,
smother my lips until 
we matter

in the dream 
begun 
after this one

First published in Atavic Poetry.



Empty Lot


Side by side 
in the quiet and dark, raking 
a short cut 
through an empty lot I
(to fill the void) pretended
was a park, we were hurrying
to something or somewhere (beyond that,
I don’t remember what). On 
we slogged
in the quiet and dark (others nowhere 
near us to see us) when, 
flushed with resolution, I veered
to make you stop 
in the center of the empty lot 
(that was never a park), managed 
a “Hey” and then (no way of knowing 
there’d be nothing in the end 
to fill the void 
left by love that never grew 
from this) quickly, 
slowly 
filled your mouth 
with a kiss.