When the Evening Comes (Rondine)

Poem-a-Day Challenge #26: Evening Poem

When the evening comes and the light fades,
the heart’s curtains are drawn; its candle dims.
A heavy cloak draws around wounded limbs;
dew beads on the ground, watering the shades
that emerge like weeds that come out to play
when the evening comes.

No dressing or salve applied in the light
of day to ward from fever’s red-flushed heat
means a festering aching will deplete
the health and clarity of solar flight
when the evening comes.

4-26-2019

Prompt

What is a Rondine?

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To Lefty (Ottava Rima)

Poem-a-Day Challenge #11: Dedication Poem

Living in a chilly Cleveland hotel––
With its quiet echoes of memories––
Has to be its own special kind of hell:
Singing the blues all night can’t set you free.
The old grays’ stories of kindness retell
Their own sad, dusty, difficult stories.
The wind as cold as Pancho makes you face
The one thing you need most: forgiving grace.

4-11-2019

Prompt

What is an Ottava Rima?

Bright (Dickson Nocturne)

The well-worn saying goes,
Something’s as white as snow.
But snow is bright.
The glare off it can blind.
So when it comes to mind,
Forgiv’n our crimson crimes—
But snow is bright.
It radiates, reflects—
Its glory indirect—
Light, too, is white.
It welcomes, not rejects.
But snow is bright.

1-20-2019

Conspiracy

In college I took a class
where we discussed
conspiracy theories
in history.
Some I’d heard of
as conspiracies before;
others I never suspected.
Lincoln’s assassination,
Pearl Harbor, and of course,
JFK.
The problem with conspiracies
is that it requires silence
from people who know something.
How many people do you know
who can keep a secret?
A really, juicy one?
How many people
successfully avoid gossip?
How many times do we
successfully resist,
“Hey, did you hear about…”
The more we know,
the more we tell.
It’s who we are.

And yet.

There is one who knows
deeper, darker, juicier
secrets than any
sunglassed, dark-suited
conspiracy ever dreamed of.

Love covers a
multitude
of sins.

12-14-2018

Prompt

Relief

There are many images––
biblical ones, even––
of what it’s like
to do and be
forgiven:
What
it looks like,
what it involves,
how many times to do it
(we debate about if it’s
seventy-seven or
seventy-times-
seven,
as
though
times two
through four
are a walk in the park),
how it feels.
For me,
it
feels
like relief,
like exhaling
after holding my
breath for too long
without knowing I was.

11-30-2018

Prompt