Thief

i remember the day when it

floated in the air towards
You.
You,
a Thief, hesitated
To grab what i owned but could not
Claim.
But You stole it.

You reached out
Your hand like a queen
reaches for alms.

For pity?
For understanding?
Compassion,  maybe.
It cannot-
will not
Be what You told me
beside the broken
stained glass
window that cast shards of
light On Your face while we were
swallowed by waves
made of cloth where we
belonged but was used by countless
other Thieves and victims and Thieves
and Thieves.

You, the most terrible Thief
and yet the most skilled.
You took
what was mine and cherished
and cared and lived for it.
Even for a while.

You returned
It. You looked at me
With kindness clutching
Your hand
Like a child
Holds on to a pet dog.

And i had to own
What you returned.
But it was no longer mine.

To Explain: Nothing

To understand
Pain is to accept happiness.

You show me the warmth
That falls
On a flower
After a cold
Night of longing.

You tell me of the wind
That embraces
leaves
That fall
Off a tree
To take them
For their first
And last
Trip

You sing of the water
That soothes
The tongues of
The wealthy and
Feet
Of the poor.

You attempt
Your hardest to
Convince me
Of the
Beauty
Of the
World.

But I know. I know its worth.
I know of the grass that cushions my
Back and of the clouds that feed
Me like sweets.
My memories, they glitter gold in my mind.

I know the beauty of the world.

And yet I still yearn to leave.

Thinking Chair

And at the side of the street

sits a plastic bottle of water

discarded by the man in front

of me who finally stood

as if he suddenly understood why

he could no longer be there

sitting at 3am in the morning.

 

I sit where he sat and stayed there

until I heard the heavy footsteps

of the next person to occupy

the sidewalk.

 

My time is up.

Unnamed

The front door was open.

 

I rush inside- past the bottles

of wine on the carpet. It was

a dark hallway to the bedroom.

 

I see her from outside the

bedroom, through the

slight crack of the door.

Inside, her

discarded clothes make.

a trail to the bed.

 

Shirt. Pants. Underwear.

 

She was sleeping. Her arms

outstretched towards the warm

part of the bed that was empty.

 

I walk back to the outside,

making sure to close the door

this time.