Thursday, September 15, 2011

Single Season

She was an actress with the ingrown fear
that all roses are perfunctorily tossed.
We met over mixed reviews & drinks later.
She'd visit, she said, though I knew that if
we didn't       then       the odds were rather stiff
that sober she'd even let me call her.
When she phoned of her sickness, we knew the cost:
someone would have an interupted career.

Maybe I'm Amazed

Down the fence row, dogs crisscross with fox tracks,
noses obliterating the tracks like a plow.
One dog's prize: a sparrow sawn in two
by the cold, as hollow inside as a bell.
Now the dogs have raised the fox as well,
honking in dismay until he's lost from view.
I hunt too, while the cold and sun allow:
until snow tires up the hill, and I relax....

No comments:

Post a Comment