Opposite World

six short poems

Photo by Marc-Olivier Jodoin on Unsplash

---

The Winter of Our Contentment

The bedroom window is open
and cold wind turns

the curtains into morning tides.
I toss aside the thick blankets

to escape my bed's furnace.
Then I breathe, breathe

through the freeze. Sometimes,
it's good to shiver on purpose.

---

His Obituary


When you're the aging
adult who, as a child,

attended dozens
of funerals and wakes,

then every death
reminds you of every

other death.
At the crosswalk,

in the supermarket,
bookstore, restaurant,

gas station, traffic jam,
and coffee shop, 

you find yourself
holding your breath

because you're afraid
of which loved one

or beloved stranger
will die next.

---

Nocturne

The mosquito flies
so close to my eye
that it eclipses
the moon.

---

Home

At the front door,
our family's shoes

are strewn
like a pride of lions

asleep and shaded
from the sun.

---

Table Talk


Honor your apple,
honor your sweet onion,

honor your venison,
honor your glass of milk,

honor your lettuce leaf,
honor your slice of cheese,

honor your rice,
and honor your bread

because, from our cradle
to our final meal

on our final table,
it's a thousand

thousand deaths
that keep us fed.

---

Opposite World


Sometimes, the lamb
is more dangerous

than the wolf
and the hummingbird 

more deadly
than the hawk.

Keep an eye
on the honey

bees that gather
hive by hive.

Be wary of the blue
whale that sings 

for peace. Sometimes,
it's the graceful ones

who have the most
blood beneath

their talons
and the most tender

flesh between
their teeth.