we have gotten beyond all that

shadows in the new moon

forsythia, lilac, wisteria, red bud,

dogwood and azalea in May

sun in equinox too soon

tulips, this is a letter

a plea to the spring sight of you

London in May, July in Syracuse

I am so hungry for the past

filled with lovers

at least then I had my pick

to bite the full throat of you

to sleep in your arms

to lay my hair across your face

to claim you simply

as one bends and picks a flower

red hibiscus in wind

my hands trembling


Poem That Comes Before Sleep

I have lost you

pretending   discretion

more a word

than choice

say it isn’t    true

we know our path

biographies written

in hands we held

took you away

easy as sleep   turned

dream you were gone

as children wake screaming

from nightmares   in sleep

you were quiet

against dreams of going

as though my choice

night comes

I say   too soon

too soon

have I lost

other hands

to this

Slave To Love



We always played by candlelight.  Mahler, Rachmaninoff,

you cried as you brought the piano to orgasm.  Faster

and faster till at last the sky broke open.  Thunder

in the black keys.  You could hold the world in your hands,

or just my heart.  I loved you with such a simple

straight-forward passion for your voice, your eyes,

your hands, your miraculous hands.  Eyes closed,

shivering, unable to catch my breath, not knowing

if it was you or the music taking me.  Wings

caressing the keys, caressing my face.  It

didn’t matter.  You call my name in the melody, the harmony,

I forget my name, remembering only each note

as it enters me whispering, then exploding

like lightening.