It’s not strange
to stay up late
listening to the rain
splash on window grates.
To fondly gaze
at phone photos of you
and feel the haze
of the magic that you do.
To relax by sitting alone,
to meditate;
to stare at a phone
and contemplate.
Will you think it weird if I call?
No! It’s not absurd at all.
She has unbuttoned
her blouse,
opened
her coat,
laid bare
her soul
before
my eyes.
Jericho’s walls
fell
with such
faith.
I’m awed
not by what
she has said,
but that she said
anything at all.
To, slowly,
one by one,
unbutton
her soul,
exposing
her inner self,
laying bare
her heart,
having faith
and hope
that they won’t
be trampled,
took courage
she didn’t know
she had.
Yet her face
glows.
Her body
warms.
A smile breaks
across her lips.
She feels,
finally,
again.
And feeling
feels
good.
Who would design a/
cooking pan set with metal/
handles? Prob’ly men.
Oh quiet one,/
of who I am fond,/
please respond/
when your work is done.
I wouldn’t IM thee/
continually,/
nor interrupt thy work,/
but/
I thought/
an occasional flirt/
wouldn’t hurt.
At what time and place/
shall we shorten the space/
betwixt and between us?/
For soon you and I must/
have gelato face to face.
What’s the matto/
with a first gelato?/
It’s not long enough/
to fall in love!/
Yet I still wanna go.
I have gone farther, /
deeper, truer, with her, but/
I’m still not enough.