USA

pcmc@igc.org

Deconstruction

No one comes to witness love's demolition.
Each week, unchallenged, I kick another brick loose,
strip away one more floorboard.

As the wrecking ball descends,
you watch t.v. and drink beer, 
sleep through every eviction notification.

I relocated aeons ago, far beyond
the spreading circle of disenchantment,
dust from ground zero fallout.

Only a polite ghost still shrieks in courteous alarm,
fluttering through ruins where a patient wolf waits
to blow the last flimsy wall down.

Half Past Solstice

Eucalyptus unravel to silver bone
in the copper bright air.

Thin ships with spider arms
pull themselves through the bay.

Tonight you exist within a dream,
far beyond this gold world.

A single boat chugs toward home
as the purple fog spreads.

I will sleep alone and miss your lips
against my curved neck.

Small birds fall past icy stars,
a blurry moon, the awakening lights.

Distant surf curls white fists, strikes flaming sand,
ghostly tide-polished trees.

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