A half century ago I bought my engagement present.
Not the one I gave her, but the one she gave me.
I don’t recall ever asking her to pay for it.
The gold plated Bulova Acutron watch
lasted through several watch straps but finally,
despite a couple of new batteries, declined to run.
There are only two places in North America
that are willing to repair it, and both charge
five times its purchase price to do so.
And if I paid for the repair it would be worth
less than half of the cost to fix it
 The watch is coffined in my jewelry case
since I cannot let myself discard it,
and I wonder if I should put it back on
simply as male wrist ornamentation
for I cannot remember the last occasion
someone has asked me for the time.
                        

It’s always struck me as peculiar
that invoking a demon by spellcasting
is cause for corruption and damnation, 
while praying to a saint in similar tone
is seen as redemptive and uplifting
even if I’m asking for the same things.
Give me love, give me luck, give me looks.
Maybe I can safely accomplish the gimmies
by simultaneously appealing to both sides
and letting them figure out 
who should take the call.
                        

The last true cold of winter
Carries the dampness of its decay.
Frigid gusts push against sunlight,
And the night settles later and softer.
 
Those immersed in this changeling time
Feel the dead body shrug beneath them,
The ground yielding beneath their feet,
And are able to stretch without shivering.
 
The death heaves come in frigid rain
And open, frost-wracked sores
the colors shading from white to black 
and into a death rattle of fertile rot.