burnt toast

you didn’t come home

until the very next day

you shuffled in, electric 

energy from other hands

still circling your

ashamed feverish head

like Saturn’s halo 


your naked finger tapping,

rubbing worn-thin


rust red trousers

dodging questions, dodging

glances: a sideways

dagger-eyed bride


children circle like

knowing natives,

moon round faces, 

pool and threaten to overflow

you reassure them,

I provoke, compensating,

like a surgeon, I cut in


monologging interrupted

by your cell phone,

it jumps and sways and

moans under the weight

of its ripe truth;

toast is made and burned

and remade


salty thick peanut

butter on fingers and lips,

like forever,

six in the morning,

it was your birthday

toast always burned,

i like it better that way.

new poems, poetry


cotton candy bike shorts

exposed knees, rose bush cuts

banana seat freedom

front yard peeing

no time to stop the cul-de-sacs calling

mouths on mouths on mouths.


blooming air, thick sweet honey

skin close freckled

eyes meet electric

licking lips, popsicles

mouths turned sunset splendid colors

mouths on mouths on mouths.


kissy kissing with saliva

“time for dinner”, blushing hiding

feet embarrassed 

mauve carpet looking

secret thoughts delighted knowing

mouths on mouths on mouths.


barefoot chaser, best friend replacer 

leaving longing I think she’s calling

sticks and stones, 

upset stomach

cool off bath, mom’s hurried quiet

mouths on mouths on mouths.