plausible

Murder mysteries and romcoms,

in equal measure, I devour

in epic weekend watches.

The affinity stems, I think,

from how both make plausible

the preposterous.

That a mad country vicar

in a village of forty

kills four in feats of

villainous vengeance

before being found out

by the dogged detective,

who is hailed by all,

except for the four

who can hail no more,

for his diligent deduction;

or that half a day spent

in the company of 

the movie star's fiancé

is enough to turn his head

to the clumsy cliché girl

of bookish bent.

The stories heaven sent

for one whose expectations

have yet, by real life,
to have been met.

bona fides

against her 

better judgment 

she believed 

the paper promises 

of time

every passing hour 

passing as her bona fides

wisdom's diploma

writ in the wrinkles

of her smile

the crinkle of her eyes

and yet no wiser she

just a miser

holding tight to

the little she had known

until as dry dust

the seeds of what she knew

too desiccated to plant again

melee

once more into the breech
the metal doors open
and onto the platform
pour out the pawns
with shopping bags
and strollers abounding
then inward rush
the melee swarms
and jostles like salmon
up the rapids past bears
and every inch a struggle
as one inward seethes
and swallows a battle cry
of "take off your backpack, jerk,
lest my elbow find your eye!"

inhere

the flower needs not
your approbation
of its beauty
its beauty then to share
rather those qualities
themselves inhere
within the essence
of the thing itself
so you
oh, would that you
would believe it true

fester

I thought that I
had dug you out
but still a splinter
left to fester
evaded my blade
and now infected
sick and dejected
I ache for medicine
more strong than
the paltry poultices
with which I first
wrapped the wound
and to whose charms
I seem to be immune

akimbo

as a hen-pecking housefrau
schoolmarm arms akimbo
foot in an impatient tap
the temper tempo barely under wraps
so she waits by the door
as dinner and her heart
bake into hockey puck hardness
for the one who swore
all the inconsistent inconstancy
would be no more

wreak

my inner natures conflicted
one always screams "let lie"
the other screams "let fly"
and I and I and I
am of more minds
than I can reconcile
to wreak revenge
on former friend
or turn the cheek
or stew and seek
a route more devious
while wishing
me impervious 
to the self destructiveness
of my remorse in face
of your remorselessness

haphazard

you scramble
for some defense
to hold up
to cover
the hole
made wholly
by omission and negation
formed in desperation
haphazard half-truths
sputtered and spat out
in response to a question
unasked

advise

if older me
to younger me
could through
the fog of time
devise
a way
for conversation
older me
would this
advise
to live
sans reservation
and defy
her expectation
don't focus
on the things
she thinks
she's botching
because no one else
is really watching

tare

it matters not
the words which weigh
find their tare
in shape and form
of saddened eyes
and pouted lips
as though regret redeemed
as though loss lightened
by paving stone intention
but still the path as laid
is hellward bound again

gauche

i fumble and stumble
too old to be green
so now just gauche
gallivanting and galumphing
bovine with porcelain
breaking into sharp shrapnel
shooting from my mouth
made loose by losing
by being confused
and confusing
a mild predilection
for affection

crucible

so it is
in times of trial
we aim for triumph
thrown into the crucible
thrust into the fire
our mettle is melted
and hearts forged
impurities burned away
in the furious fervor
of becoming
our basic self
and hoping it's not
our basest self

edacious

wandering the stacks
parched nomad
at the oasis
covetous fingers
brush the spines
edacious minds
limited by arms
that cannot hold
every tome
the eyes
would feast upon

vindicate

shifting tectonic plates
of desire pull them apart
and in the chasm
silent seas pour in
until no bridge of apology
strong or long enough
to span the divide
no proof of rightness
enough to vindicate
the empty wrongness

steadfast

hooked line and sinker
following along
despite all evidence
steadfast in conviction
that someday
the maybe baby's
will melt from promise
into action

yawp

the lullaby

blue overhead unbroken 

delicious itch of salt on skin

bum shimmies 

making a hollow in sand

as the gull cries and hollers 

of splashing children combine

yawping in choral counterpoint 

to waves crashing 

copacetic

the light flickers on
in the sleepy pre-dawn
and she rolls to one side
her head on the shoulder
of the one who holds her
when she laughs and cries
she breathes in comfort
beneath the comforter
and for a moment
before her love has to arise
before the day becomes frenetic
just in this space
everything is copacetic
in her half-lidded eyes

savant

in a moment they met
and conjured out of air
the history of millenia
in the flash
of a magician's
fiery hand
consumed
by the blaze
ignited
in the subject
of each other
savants
counting cards
with just a glance

meme

ubiquity
with importance
conflated
caught up
in a net
of ephemera
swimming in
an ocean
of information
or dis
hooked by a meme
and hauled
onto the decks
of this
platform or other
to flip and flop
to gape and gawp
til thrown back
or hung out to dry
yet never question
who or why
the line baited

onerous

every day the same
a hundred tiny tasks
mundane yet onerous
inbox full of papers
sink full of dirty dishes
basket bulging with clothes
the chores, the floors,
the utter bore of it all
repeating ad infinitum
as you struggle against
the tyranical twins
of entropy & apathy

repudiate

i tell myself
to be stern
with face foreboding
grimly grimace unforgiving
that i may repudiate you
as i know i must do
but you grin
and take me in
my resolve melts
as snow in summer sun
and when you kiss me
i come undone

assay

against some unknown measure
you would my love assay
the laying out of treasure
to appraise and rate and weigh
each smile, kiss, and whisper
assigned a certain value
then scribbled in a list for
examination and review
but some things, like love, are priceless
and confound your computations
love's total sum defies the
product of your calculations

bosky

perfumed by sweet loam
and honey nectar of
life pulsing in
midsummer glory
nature whispers
in the bosky dusk
a symphony of
rustles and creaks
and soft padded feet
the dancers lit by firefly light
as day descends to night

turpitude

oh how you revel in yourself
you strut and prance
and in truth there is
no small beauty in your
moral turpitude displayed
as peacock feathers arrayed
but like the dandy bird
you cannot truly fly
weighted down by
bad deed and false word

ludic

sliding on
the hardwood floor
in stocking feet
with a thump
and a giggle
as though no bigger
than the pupal you
who's peering out
behind adult eyes
holding hands
and skating though
on padded paws
the ludic, vaulted halls
sun-dappled and silly
aging yes, but never
getting old, not really

poltroon

had you lied to me
to protect another
perhaps I could forgive
but your lies were just
to provide you cover
& cowardice to thrive
poltroon marooned
on the shores of truth
with nowhere left to hide
were you younger
you could blame it on youth
this running from the tide

flat-hat

a parade ground on a summer day
planes swoop and swerve
and all the people there observe
the derring-do of the pilots
as they dive and roll
like lovers do in fields below
and when the planes
flat-hat above the crowd
all the people ooh and ah aloud
the pilots woo the earthbound
as all eyes look to the skies
mesmerized by this
as bewitched and mystified
as after a first kiss

inalienable

those intangibles
inalienable
yet are frangible
and when some degrade
the value of the other
based on race
or religion or color
when the life of mine
means more than yours
when we build walls
and close our shores
when we limit
liberty arbitrarily
but only for those
who "don't look like me"
when we succumb
to manufactured hate
we denigrate what actually
makes America great

construe

accidental nap to
insomniac night
hours of gazing
at the backs of eyelids
at the shadows ceiling-dancing
from the light of passing cars
at the contours
of limbs under sheet
in the passing hours
mulling and musing
long past amusing
attempting to construe
a screaming id
babbling unintelligible
until exhaustion
finally takes you

dithyramb

no ode exalted nor dithyramb of delight
could e'er contain the joy of the nights
where wild like bumptious puppies
we sang and swore with newfound grace
never again or before the world to so face
greener than green we were just guppies
burning with passion unrestrained
not yet by the world were we trained
in disappointment that would dare have lasted
beyond the stretch of one wild night's end
no sadness not gone by daybreak again
nor could we believe such ever forecasted

sericeous

i imagined
how it would be
the mix
of you and me
tiny fingers grasping
chubby cheek cherubim
and i'd breath in
that soft scent
that wafts
from sericeous skull
above blue eyes
serious and solemn
and smiling and wise
all at once
in that way
they do
she haunts me
that phantom
of me and you