Seed in the Snow

When I step near the sparrows, they prance,

rather than fly away, as if to say I’m not afraid,

            but I don’t trust you.

Getting on my knees so they can see

my eyes, I call their bluff: so soon as intimacy

drops from my hands, the beating of wings

replaces the songs they sung and I am breathing

            steam alone into the snow.

And so I sit, casting seed regardless, because I know:

should the birds not feed, there plants will grow;

birds with flighty hearts in winter never stay,

but rooted trees, despite pain, storms and the axe,

            will always remain.

Things I’ll Never Know

This body is all I have
I’ll never know how it feels
to have a birth mark on my neck
or how black hair feels
when it leaves my scalp.
I’ll never know how it feels
to be more than five point five
feet tall to be able to
look my father square in the eye
I’ll never know how it feels
when I play with your
skin tag with my arm around you
I’ll never know how it feels
to have to prick my finger
after every meal I make for you
I’ll never know how it feels
to have a fever screeching
in my bones every night
since I was born that makes you
too tired to twist beneath
the sheets like we once did
or even see our son off
into the icy streets on his last
day of school before Christmas
I’ll never know how it feels
to have my voice whisper into
your dreams of three AM saying
Don’t leave me.

You’ll never know how it feels
to look into your bleary blessed and
beautifully dark eyes in the firelight
after the boy with your laugh
and my smile has gone to bed
and wish with all that I call my own
that I could give you this body
so you could know how it feels
to have a body not given to death.

Sunset from the Window

I’ve never really seen the sun.

Walking between the concrete

prison bars we call buildings,

I’m occasionally struck by a beam.

But it’s only the

 

reflection

of a reflection

of another reflection

bounding from window to window

like a child wandering alone

in the produce section.

 

And maybe that’s what I am –

just a boy, like everyone tells me.

I’ve refused to believe it for years,

shouted at patronizing naysayers,

believing instead that I’m the only

adult in a child’s world. But this

is a concrete world – an adult’s world.

 

I must be a child, looking for fields,

flowers, trees to climb. Looking

for the sun to bathe me instead of city water.

Looking for more than reflections

 

of glory.

Bell Hymn

This is an imitation poem based off of Rabbit Trance by Jarold Ramsey. You should also read that poem. It’s stellar!

 

Thrice in a dense December snowstorm

I heard a bell ring out in mourning

and into the frozen trees and iced leaves of my home

the stone churchyard, where uncounted sleeping

saints still sing out to the tune of the bell.

I heard the bell settle into silent

tears, quieted for only a time

of breathing, then shiver and freeze

so long the winter ceased to be

and there was no more death of which to sing.

The expansive clouds narrowed and retreated to blue,

the bell’s silence and resolve redeemed the air

and all hitherto sleep quickened in exaltation

except my voice quieted in my throat

little girl leave me be

Afternoon in Faded Green October

My feet plant themselves

in the grass growing to frame

my brother’s grave on a Sunday.

Stepping barefoot to his capstone,

I’d tripped over the roots of oaks

he and I might have climbed

had he lived to see his first spring.

A river weaves behind me,

and I know how the two of us

would have outdone Huck Finn

on that river – staying out late rafting

during those first thunderstorms of summer;

how we would have waltzed in for dinner

with scrapes and grass-stains, soaked –

but by the rain or the river Mom wouldn’t

be able to tell. I speak of this only to

the autumn air and ancient soil that separates

me from his bones.

 

                                    The grass of the

cemetery has just been cut, and I look

forward to the day that I’ll tell him

how fresh cut grass and Christmas trees

smell – the day when Adam and Eve’s choice

will be reversed.