Thursday, July 5, 2018

188. harbour dining


August:
and the seagulls
circle

smiling ship-sails
rest their
contented wings

scavenging above the
sapphire-strewn
surface,
cackling, boasting,
gossiping

children shriek
and call their
hungry
friends,
beckoning with strips of partly-eaten
lettuce from
lunch's ham
sandwich

sparkled concrete
blazes my
heat-soaked
toes;

gulls comingle with
assuming toddlers,
planes take-off of
life off,
unseeing

glistening, the water
hums and
whirs,
silver sapphire
in the
waning
sun.




July 3, 2018
Waterloo, ON

Friday, June 29, 2018

187. A Love - Backwards

Ari I
Scene: Toronto Music Garden


In the green-dappled
shade; purple, yellow,
pink dots
flower the
foliage.

We wind the circle of
the Bach dance
and pause in the
quiet centre.

Only birds rustle
as you pull me in and
kiss me:
"I can be romantic, too"
you say, as I
smilingly acknowledge
its truth.

Well-played

despite your uncouth
tongue and
penchant for
alcohol; I
remember this
first kiss and your
last,
its opening charm
and beauty so
unexpected
and clever.

Ari II
Scene: City Hall

City hall bench
finds us sitting in the
merciful shade
Kids in wisely light-coloured
T-shirts scream and chase each
other 'round sculptures of brains.
Just earlier we wound our
way around them, reading
the artists' reasons why
each one had a different
design.

The big, winding staircase
winds,
above and around us;
cool, stony
on its underside.
We are
listening
and you draw yourself
close to me,
calves grazing beyond our summer shorts.
You like me, I
can tell;
I smile at the thought.
It's been so long
someone has wanted to be near me,
to see through my eyes
and inhabit my
oxygen.
I revel in our
mutual presence
as we silently
flaunt our homo
love
amidst the breeders
with their
shrieking
tweens.

Ari III
Scene: Richmond Towers

Only breezes
shush the netting of the
window mesh;
a sliver smiles
through the half-opened
drape

early birds have not
yet began their day;
an occasional vehicle is the remnant of the
night's
activity:
your breath grazes me
dew-spun neck,
kisses trimming its
trembling surface

You:
selfish, steal my
dormant body;
I -
half-sleeping,
gazing out the tapestry's
small-squares

selfish, smiling in
my gloating beauty,
desired, embraced,
entwined, at
last.

June 28, 2018
Waterloo, ON

Sunday, November 12, 2017

186. 3/4

I. A Library

It is the 2
of us:
china in the cabinet,
glasses on the side
playing house
in a borrowed
home.

You carefully
place olives, blue cheese,
and sundried tomatoes
on the
pasta sauce-slewn
bread.

We are eating.
You are talking of your
faithless
ex,
pink T-
shirt.

And I in a pink
tank-top.

Borrowed:

The room,
the plates,
the shirt,

and me.

On loan,
copy 2,
special archives.
Books do not
feel.

II. A Window

It is dark
and you
take the blanket off the
curtain rod

mesh separates us
and the
humming night

you want to see me,
you keep saying

but the light is too
harsh
we both
know

we kiss
in darkness

I tremble as I
melt in your assured
embraces,
helpless

as you reassure
and whisper
and pause to see
if I am
all
right

this is
care, I
think

this is
love

your lips on mine,
praising me.
I am so
desired in this moment,
so beautiful, so
divine.

A demigod has
discovered me
and thirsts for
me.
What must
I
be?

III. An Omelette

Chestnut lashes,
chestnut eyes,
chestnut locks:

I see you know
in the early
light

you see me see
you,
smile, and
return to sleep

you know your
power

we split an
omelette
four
ways

one for her,
one for you,
and
one for
me.

The fourth we
split between us,
like an
afterthought.

I sit next to
you on your
couch.
Our legs graze.

Your attention is already
on your
phone.

We have no
service

Aug 6, 2017
Halifax, NS