Revelry

Death throws a lousy party -
every revelry the same.
Dim lights, dirges, and flat drinks;
black dresses, wilted bouquets.

Cold, lifeless bones in a coffin.
Cold cuts and cheese on a tray.
Death throws a lousy party,
but we're all his guests anyway.

A Babble

Thick with green leaves,
the pear tree's a babble
of mockingbirds, robins,
wrens, blue jays, and grackle!

Later

You once were a cloudburst -
no commas or breath.
Your professions of love
left me wrung out, but wet.
Now your Sappho is silenced
and the best that I get
is a peck
on the cheek -
Love ya, later.

It's Lust That Lays You Down

scratching and grasping at the headboard,
kicking grandma's quilt to the floor, and
untucking the sheets.

Then, after, laughs at the floral
skinprint
the mattress leaves.

Lust is in the body,
of the body,
and out of your head.

It's lust that lays you down;
love
makes the bed.

For Midweek Motif~Lust at Poets United

Dark

We mated,
plaited our hair,
and painted the cave walls eggshell white.

Stars rose,
fell,
did stints in rehab.

We constructed fine cathedrals
to house our candles -
let there be light!

Now,
we pine
for authentic dark.