Ten years of racing nights,
has left him growing old.
Sleeping next to her a fright,
she is really awful cold.

She lay so very still,
his eyes resting on her breast.
Her mouth bloody from her kill,
unmoving, minus breath.

She'd needed a protector,
a thrall to do her bidding.
She revealed herself to him,
so she could still lay hidden.

Now he asked her, let him go,
he's seen way too much at last.
His aging body slowing,
she still was shocking fast.

,Is that it? After all these years—
Four years of battles, pain, and tears?
Depression's gone, they say I'm free,
"Just take these pills, you’ll finally be
Better now," or so they claim—
But inside, I still feel the same.

What is happy? What’s it mean?
This world still feels like just a dream.
Am I supposed to smile today,
Pretend the scars have gone away?
Maybe I’m fine… or so I say,
But something’s wrong—it won't obey.

three bedroom place between four females
two must bunk within the mid sized room
Norma held one, the largest alone
oldest and middle spelled instant doom

Stormy, your jealousy for Kathryn
was the crack in your armored veneer.
Kathryn was a vile plotting coward
crying to mom, as she ran in fear

you were easily antagonized
engaged in blacking both of her eyes
too often, giving a bloody nose
for treachery; one of mom's spies

I asked her to dance
even though I barely knew how.

It was a garden party.
I worried I'd look the fool.

The stars blinked some,
but didn't laugh,
and neither did she.

Doctors and nurses with hearts unbound,
nurse aides with curly dark hair are here,
they seem to come from everywhere.
Patients lie in beds so still,
their stories told in whispered will.

Families wait with anxious sighs,
Hoping for news of this loved one's surprise.

The hospital's rhythm, a symphony that plays,
Of healing hands and caring ways.

In every room, a story's spun
Of life, of hope, of battles won.
In the morning, the sun will rise,
And I will see a new day come.

He listened to her play the harp
as he lingered outside her window
where even the house wren
forgot her usual aria,
and the clouds in the sky
paused in contemplation -

such was the surrender of her soul.

For love seeps,
it exudes
from every crevice,
and every crater
from all the moons,
and its illuminating you

SUPERNOVA
I have yet to be touched by death
Though at my back I've felt his cold breath.
Some days, I see him waving, flying by
Something oddly kind and warm in his eye.
And if he would hear, I would ask,

May I grab hold of your shadow cloak?
Could you lay low this tired oak?
So the raven may say in quiet croak,
"Gone, another humourless soul
That didn't get the grand joke".

No wolves baying at my door,
For evil will not come in.
When darkness looms,
Or when this day begins.

For I'll create a zone,
A barrier to such sin.
Not quite soundproofing,
Yet serenity still gets pinned.

Fear isn't my master,
In this arena of protection.
Against an army of chaos,
Coming from any direction.

And the wind may be howling,
The other side of that door.
Yet in a house full of comfort,
Calmness is felt to my core.

About fourteen and a half years
before my birth,
yours truly not even a twinkle
in the eyes of his then
young father and mother
the former born April 9th 1929,
while the latter would be turning ten
that upcoming November 13th
living in destitution
with her three older siblings
(in proximity to then
prosperous heyday of Coney Island)
emotionally devastated crying unabashedly
when she returned to espy absent building
as a wife for countless years
to glimpse the absence of domicile