Precarious Ride

The campus is deserted as my bicycle
glide-rattles across the new formed paths
curving between brown lawns
and old buildings, declaring human ascendancy
over earth. This stone carved proclamation
means nothing to the trees that guard
their landscaped space. They grow as they have always grown,
tall. And the wonders of man’s civilized self
seem no more certain than
the little machine that carries me precariously
across their grounds.

The Metal Mile

At night the soft layers of her bed, her soft flesh
turn hard on the edge of crushed breath
numb to all but the weight of plastic
bound with straitjacket clasps
and hours spent sleepless.

Smooth walled, the thick brace
cuts into her thighs,
pressing in the outward S
of grey vertabrae curving
in gradual collapse.

After 18 months, rigid in the vice
the doctors note no difference
and pre-op in a paper gown
she scrubs the last trace of self
off with acetone
finding bones beneath.

The passage of the dying child
is mapped in scar
running straight between shoulder blades
then veering left where waist
grows wide and turns to hips,
a rough brown trail to mark
the metal mile of her spine.

Buenos Aires

I knew you from the first cobblestone,
the leather smell of your skin,
politics in your kisses,
your breath espresso steam.

How I wanted
your heartbeat, tango slow,
your sleepless nights
lost in cafe traffic.

I loved you
in accordion laments,
the trail of smoke from your fingers
punctuating thoughts.

And I will miss
your silence on the subte,
the salt of your sweat,
the guiding pressure of your hand on my back.

Two Minute Love Song

I wanted to tell you
you were alive today. But more
you were eternal, so timeless and wild
so impossible to tame. You were
music in rivers
in chimes,
in whispers when you smiled.
You were as welcome as spring
hot sun, cool rain
burning and soothing and consuming.
You,
you contained it all.