Closer

She looked like she was already gone with white sheets concealing her whole body except for her head which was a mask of Frederick Douglass' hair and Dizzy Gillespie's cheeks

And yet when she opened her one-toothed mouth to let out a shrill sequence of inaudible screams she resembled the cover of “In the Court of the Crimson King”

She wasn't herself

Still in her delirium she recognized my face amidst a patchwork infinity as if I was a black tree in a far-away forest as she fell further and further from Angel Falls as a decomposing mist closer and closer minute by minute approaching the River Permanence  

Playground

We grew up together, played with each other in the sand right next to the slide. That was dangerous, I suppose.

No. No more than when I watched Travis push you on the swing – higher and higher as if you were going somewhere, while in reality he was just pushing you away.

Nick wasn't any better with you on the monkey-bars, always running before you while you hung on for dear life, your hands aching and chaffing with a misplaced pious patience as your legs dangled above a mulch-covered tomb. Always running before you, always the cheater.

And after all that, you settled for Matt, whom I've never seen face to face. The two of you have shared so many ups and downs that I've never seen more than his profile. No walks around the park. No sitting on the bench, gazing into the setting autumn sun. Just see-sawing, jack-knifing, aberrant sexing.

Meanwhile, the sun is setting on your son. I hold him close to me in the twisted tufts of grass, to the right of the slide, across from the dead azaleas, all encircled by mulch. Though his eyes reflect his parent's imbalance, I spy the length of sixteen summers in the horizon. I pray it's enough to protect him from the longest winter.

April

Rain-filled days keep my

Malaise ablaze paradox

Winter's humid haze