Serenity Smile

how serene her smile in Summer’s facial lightings,

where hair of shined mahogan’silk rests in bask of Daylight’s father

frequenting Shore for despise of Shade and its

lower Beauty–

but though for stuttered moment pictured is her Serenity Smile,

fallen to love has she with other.

brokejaw ice

brokejaw ice like

   teeth             in crimson’d

                             drink

one glass                [milk of

in halfdoze many   jawgum

left                       choke-spat

sparingly               to crystal

as though by         fresh-shined

     child                 and smiling]

           in LEGO’d fever

age’ed jack o’ lantern

age’ed jack o’ lantern,

your ash-caged jagged grin

finds reflection: me–
        awakened in
        smile of throat,
            cross of eye
                                              to eye
                    to close
                to smile again–
                      to
               smile
             to
         flint
       again
         ;

A summer at Milburn Place

Once again it was that time of year,

To plant, to mow, to set the dogs in rear.

For a month or two we would be gone

A time too short, but for Mum too long.

“The maid,” she’d say, “will care for the dogs.

I hope she doesn’t feed them like hogs,

as you’re so prone to do.”

With that, we packed and scattered through

To the truck left running in the yard.

Before noon we were a third there.

“Oh how I hope to see it soon,” I stared.

Out of my window were the grasses so well known

That each blade had a name, like Matt, Tom, or Joan.

And that sign still hung above them all;

“Welcome to Milburn Place: Closed for the Fall!”

It had been up since the early Twenties, or so Mum said,

Left there after the great man himself lay dead.

“Why do they not take it down?” I asked for the hundredth time.

“It’s their choice, Hon, not yours or mine.”

It was sad to see and worse to know

That Mrs. Milburn couldn’t let go

Of the only one her heart would know.

Yet, every year, with loving arms, she’d welcome Mum, me, and Flow.

We’d go camping, riding, even biking off road

In nothing but our trunks, something special Grandma sewed.

Even with the adventure we’d take,

I could feel Mrs. Milburn’s life begin to shake,

To tumble, out of control, until a smile creased her face

And we’d have our last summer at old Milburn Place.

constant glance

spin me

and watch me fall–

top-heavy with dreams of you–

this pounding in my chest

could it be

from you?

your only gift to me

without knowing i exist–

rash, but not completely clueless

to the ways of love

and everything that comes with it..

i know

a look

can’t be enough

to wrap me ’round you,

but can a thousand?–

each second

of every forever

that you go walking by,

turning slightly–

are you noticing me?

..hopes too great

to let them be right–

i’m always wrong

so nothing’s new..

except

that now

it’s you

that is right

without knowing

what you feel like

against me

in the darkness

of a candlelight vigil–

maybe tomorrow.