TWO FRIENDS

Rose scapegoats an
unsuspecting admirer
with thorns
the true teeth in her arsenal,
pricking
wounding
drawing blood red.
Daisy a more
equitable flower,
is soft
close to the skin.

JACK

There’s the plastic bag
sealed and zip-locked with the
leash
collar
tags
bandana
and dog smells
untouched in the drawer
for a year now
and the pictures
hundreds
maybe a thousand or more
I never did count
in bits and bytes on the hard drive
in that folder marked Jack:
that puppy just a day-old
Hershey’s Kiss
to five-year-old gray-muzzled
Dog
blur in motion
running on walk
with half the lawn
woven through his collar
like a Hawaiian lei
all with that dog smile look at me proud;
all untouched for a year now.

LAST WALK

One more walk before nightfall,
the last walk of the day—
before dusklight
turns butterfly yellow
to burnt orange,
then somehow to gray;
before the breeze
fresh against the face,
turns north to cut the skin,
before coyotes waking
from deep in their den
turn to the scent
of our passing.

THE ARGUMENT

It’s too quiet—
—as if screams were poised to leap
from our throats and deafen us.

It’s too dark—
—as if bolts were primed to strike
through our eyes and blind us.

It’s too cold—
—as if the heat of this anger
were set to burn us both.

BEFORE THANKSGIVING

bald & grizzled with bent back
bifocals scratched
in blue Dickies oil-smudged
wrestles and groans the
generator to the lift on
his truck.

prim with wool cap
tight jacket fits neat clothes
heels slacks hoists scrambling
toddler to the carriage
legs jangling, smiles through
teeth set, winces, while
clerk air-tickles teases pretty child.

shoppers gape point at
frozen butterball turkeys spilling in case
one by one lug them off in
their arms
tomorrow’s feasty family dinner.

carry these heavy loads today,
tomorrow maybe they’ll be lighter.