Color me scarlet

When you asked me

my favorite color,

Blue, I said, so calm

peaceful, serene.

But inside I was screaming

Color me scarlet.
With crayon, a little
outside the lines.

Not pinkish or red: sappy,
hopelessly romantic,
fairytale castles
apple pie in the sky.

I want to be scarlet
outlined perhaps with black
a little heated, dangerous,

colored like

exotic flowers, birds
painted like lust.


Eating in bed

We slip between two cool sheets
like peanut butter
jelly and two slices bread


tastes of darkness

as the sky circles
round the north star
I lay alone
breathing the darkness
tasting remembrances,
the flavor of your touch


like the snow outside

the snow layered
on empty tree branches,
against frosted window pane
insulates, isolates, quiets
the sounds trying to echo
across the hillside

a double V of geese
skate across hard, grey skies
late for far away wintering
faintly honking in the distance
while the neighbor’s dog barks,
mouth moving,
but I hear no sounds

cocooned in comforter strata
I am sequestered
far from your production,
watching your lips forming
words I will not hear,
sounds I do not process




white-water rafting

the river meanders
against curved muddy banks

your lips
on my neck

circling in eddies
through the canyons,

no life jacket
can’t swim

before roaring full-throated
onto rocks below

can I survive
the fall?


circling sleep

the dogs lay snoring

curled tightly into themselves

in piles at my feet


the orange kitten

circling around my legs

sneezes daintily


curled between the sheets

my mind circles the issues

unable to rest


The choice on when to settle

Monterey Bay is beautiful,

At least that’s what they say,

what I’ve been told.

I dream of going there,

stealing away for an hour,

or week or two, to

sprawl across the sand

and let the sun’s power

melt my bones

into puddles of nothingness.


But instead I watch

water-waves ripple

against the side

of the dingy bowl-

the dog lapping,

licking himself over and over

until he twists himself

into a ball on the beige carpet

and waits for the sun

to crawl across his skin.



butterflies in my stomach

monarch butterflies

circling above the lawn

alight on puddle’s edge


the puddle once still

ripples in the evening breeze

blurring reflections


harvest moon rises

moving across the puddle

slowly time passes


how moonlight brushes

silver along your cheekbones

casts lips in shadows


the butterfly floats

gently on cool evening breeze

a red leaf follows


I watch your mouth close

around the silver fork

eyes shut in delight

your tongue captures a stray crumb

tracing contours of pink lips


my stomach flutters

at the sight of your pink tongue,

glistening red lips


heated haiku

my iced tea glass sweats

onto the kitchen table

heat melting ice bones


stepping out the door –

august heat flattens my curls

summer flat iron


sunbathing on grass

watching eleven black ants

march across my hand


your heated lips press

along the nape of my neck

soft breathing quickens


the fan barely turns

the air close in august heat

your hand warmer yet


tongue paints silver

highlighting curves of my hip

before delving deep