haven

Once glimmery
brushed and burnished
coppery, now
a thin refuge
of time waning

j’adore —
sentimental busker
romances
the subway

candlelit

Power lines down,
children curl drowsily together,
listening
to their grandmother’s voice
in the wavering
light

The wall’s impact transformed her resolve.

our tabby advances
warily
through yards as
motion sensors blaze
night stars into darkness

How smoothly
the muscles over
your shoulder blades move
as morning steeps
near the kitchen windows

karma is
my fist knocking your ass
to Cleveland before the rest of you
has opened the map
only you will not remember
when I made the promise

karma is
my kiss touching
the bruise over your soul
and cradling
the gaze of your weary eyes
while you dream

karma is
always a work in progress