Tree and Stone
The sun in Fairplains casts blue shadows.
I want to say something that matters;
how laughter binds to memory.
But nothing seems enough
because here is the photo of
a decorated Christmas tree.
And carved into black stone,
the likeness of a child I do not know.
I want to say time understands.
What comes to mind, instead, is snow.
While Pondering the Iris of His Eyes
I read the last line
of someone else's poem -
So let him go.
I understand love is trauma.
Deep into the null night
the vacant heart lets down its rain song.
I float whispers of him away, in whispers
of him, I float away.
Poor and without stars, I am.
In blue shadows, by memory
I understand; not every flower opens.