Standard poetry

Sexy

Crush
From the apartment unit across the way,
I secretly watched you last night,
my eyes affixed
to your sexy slits of eyes,
your locked gaze,
as you scrolled
with lightning speed
through a feed
on your smartphone
while sitting by your sliding
patio door smoking —
your face lit
like a come-hither sliver
of moon

The Last of You
Cigarette butts
in the garage
are among
souvenirs you left
a fear of love
songs holes in
the wall where
you hung your
art, speakers
and guitar
paint chips and picks
on the carpet
a warped window
screen where you
poked your head
out in the wee hours
for a few puffs
rust stains
on the patio
from your battered
chaise a bill
from the maids
who tried to
scrub your
memory from
my brain

Untamed
The two of us
have a history
of breaking things
In the kitchen
the dishes & glassware
forever fall & shatter
In the bedroom
the alarm clock
is doomed to tumble
from the night
table & break
And books
are sure to shake
loose from the shelf
by the bed
& go thud
on the floor
Be careful where
you tear, I say,
you could rip me
one way but
not the other

Student
An old T-shirt
faded red gym shorts
with white stripes
beach sandals
in university classroom?
what would she look like
nestled in lovelets?
being swallowed
in the locker room?
remarkable legs and feet
tethered to train tracks?
wearing a cat’s whisker
and nose apparatus?
hitched to handcarved
draconian columns
in gift to Kong?


Unsexy

Burgundy Pumps
She left her new shoes
by the trailhead
atop caked mud,
immaculate burgundy pumps
standing upright
near the base of a pin oak.
Just past the restroom breezeway,
the anonymous message in wobbly
cursive was etched
with jagged glass
or blunt rock,
officials suspected.
A girl on a nearby
swing spoke with playmates
during the investigation,
gripping the chains
and pumping her bare legs
while leaning back
to attain altitude,
her feet stretching skyward,
her body awash in sunlight
and silhouettes.

Glory of Rain
Downtown is canceled
for a rainy vacation,
and everything is down
for the count.
Even street life
is an erased background.
A glory of rain falls outside,
and the sky has logged off.
No more messages here,
no more images.
This is the grey we have
until further notice.

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