Sunlight
through honeysuckle hair
with haloes of red
as you bend to
shake me
wake me.
I plumb
in the empty house of a billionaire
who is younger than us
who could crush me with a signature
while all day a bird in the wood
sings like a donkey in distress.
You'd laugh if you heard.
Driving home
through mountains
I see a giant man on a giant horse
galloping up a distant hill.
He seemed bigger than a tree!
You'd be amazed if you could see.
Now in bed
as you bathe
I see through the window
rising haloes of
yellow moonlight.
When you join me
smelling so fresh
between flannel sheets
below the frosty panes
we'll share stories
of our day.
YOU ARE READING
Construction Zone
PoetryThere's dirt under my fingernails, sawdust in my hair. I'm proud to say I hammer nails. Install toilets. Hang drywall. Welcome to the construction zone. Note: I've had to "unpublish" a few poems from this collection because they are going to appear...
