En pointe

will not dampen this ground
under trembling feet;
flowers grow best in moist soil.

I thrive under pressure;
bloom words of beauty

with too many adjectives.

You can flip the neon sign
to closed,
believing I will turn around,
but, that spin is a pirouette
to my encore in this place

and these slippers
are dug in.



Crossing the Border

Rows of oak trees and sway of willow
follow a welcome to Texas sign
leaving a swimming feeling
in the pit of my stomach
that whispers, home.

The only waves here are prairie green
with blue as far as you can see,
yes, blossoms with bonnets
under blankets of stars almost as bright
as my eyes when I am with him.



Equation of Us

She is accustomed to his head on her shoulder
a book in his lap, pencil in his hand
the day before a test, insisting he isn’t asleep,
mimicking her urgency all the way to bed,
but, under the covers, he awakens to the silk of her
studying the length of her legs multiplied
by the number of times she turns, wiggling closer,
adding a kiss for every kiss she reciprocates
subtracting minutes remaining until morning.
The answer is there is nothing material
that is equal to the value of her smile.



Two Left Feet

The cost of love
can be paid in flowers;
bloom, wilt and blossom again-
petals folded, intertwined,
carefully tucked away

like letters of infatuation
faded, but softly pressed
to the heart.

Never underestimate
the power of laughter.
Be cockeyed, be silly

like our dance steps

dipping; twirling
through honeymoons
and storms.



Spit Shine

They say

there are only so many times
I can fall;
so many turns of the cheek
before the world crumbles
under my feet,

but, look: I’m still standing!

They swung, swing,
with a vengeance
but, I am on holiday in my mind
where sand glitters a beach away
and gondolas greet crystal clear reasons
why your aggression can never touch me;

syllables sail on rapids
bouncing from shaken walls
without regret

straight back to you.


Between a Rock and a Hard Place

You recognize his face
from collector’s issue postage stamps;
from humble portraits in books worn around the edges,
but, cherished like the last petals of Spring –
every line, like love letters, folded,
placed in sachet filled drawers
for generations to find.

It must have been the sun that blinded you.
but, if you cannot bear to see,
then, how will you look in the mirror?




You inspire me
with eyes that smile,
lips gentle, like fingers
that trace mine,
finding curves,
tickling the ivory
of me.

Your heart captures mine
large as the stars skies hold
You, strong
like ocean’s waves
crashing, rough,
like our road
against possibilities.

Your laugh,
mingling with mine; voice,
serenading my thoughts
sending shivers,
trickling; trembling
to curl of toes.

We flicker, shine
jealous diamonds hide
in shadows
behind shutters
of twin flames.