I dance around you
like a firefly —
caught
in the hand
of June;
made wary
by a past
that haunts
the present,
and fuels civilities.

I flail and fall
through impolitic coupling —
as alone
then
as later;
listening to the blues
or meeting your friends,
I murmur civilities.

I feel most honest
when you sleep —
your eyes closed
mine wide open,
holding my own breath
to listen to yours.

It’s those intrepid explorers
I’m wondering about —
the ones who swath
their way
through the overgrowth
through undoing incivility,
shrugging off the pounding din
staring down the dead-yellow eyes
of all those
jungle-hungry hearts.

7 Responses

  1. Sweet, tough eternalities bursting from the heart through the brain to the page. Not just fine craftsmanship, but a touch of genius. You keep this up, you’re gonna be immortal. s/Stan Zimmerman

  2. I posted it for you, Stan! You said you like to read poetry … . Really appreciate you taking the time to read it and comment. It was a toughie to write and I worried about publishing it. Your words encourage me, though! thanks a lot.