Moonlight caresses

the curve of your bare shoulder

as you turn to me,

gilding tips of your lashes

down-swept awaiting my kiss.


The truth of a weatherman

On Wednesday,

it drizzled greyly all afternoon

instead of sun filled broken promises

of the weatherman at 6pm yesterday.

Your bags were half-packed

long before you left

haphazard piles on the foot of the bed

with my random black sock

that you really didn’t mean to keep

tucked in alongside

the T-shirt that matches mine

that you never really liked anyway.

I stepped in a puddle

helping you carry the bags to your car

sockless toes growing colder

as I stood in my wet shoes,

smiled, and waved goodbye.


our fingers stained red

berries sliced in the blue bowl

the scent wafts between

your thumb’s callus rasps along

my tongue as I have to taste


I watch your lips shape

each syllable. The pointed

red tip of your tongue

pressed against your white teeth. I

wonder why not against mine.

Haiku for Saturday

I bask in sunlight

A bitter breeze draws goosebumps

Across my bare skin


rain strikes the window
pale greyness just before dawn
mug warming my hands

tanka and promises of summer

the rippling lawn
on the cusp of turning green
a squirrel pauses
random violets sprinkled
like freckles on your shoulders

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