Two Poems
  • I

    You came to me in a dream last night.
    Ghostly and dark, you were dressed in flowing white.
    Your hair hung long. Your eyes were light. You stood near
    and spoke in a whisper that I could not hear.
    Together we walked through the desolate rooms
    of a strange house, where faint perfumes
    spiked the air. Outside, the wind blew wild.
    You stopped at the door. Then you turned and smiled
    and gave me your hand. I saw your beating heart
    within your neck, azure veins like intricate art.
    “It’s time for me to go away,” you said.
    I awoke sweating on my iron bed.

    II

    Alone in your car at a red traffic light
    you catch sight
    of a willowy woman walking in the sudden gust
    of wind: one leg bent, glistening teeth,
    she’s shielding her eyes against the dust,
    black skirt and stockings which show
    the glow
    of alabaster skin beneath;
    tucking her hair behind her ear.
    Why does this sadden and yet also endear?

    And what’s to become of a love you
    now know was only ever partly true?


    October 19th, 2019 | journalpulp | 3 Comments |

About The Author

I was born and raised in the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado. I've worked as a short-order cook, construction laborer, crab fisherman, janitor, bartender, pedi-cab driver, copyeditor, and more. I've written and ghostwritten several published books and articles, but no matter where I've gone or what I've done to earn my living, there's always been literature and learning as the constant in my life.

3 Responses and Counting...

  • Ophelia 10.19.2019

    So dark and haunting. Perfect timing for stirring the imagination for this mysterious time of year.

  • Ophelia, my dear, I’d give you violets, but they withered all when my father died.

    Thank you for reading and for dropping by.

  • Ms.

    ♥️

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