Silent Night

Montana Mouthful (Print & ePub) June 2018

Even when you’re not there to

hear them, only half the trees

falling in a forest make any noise.

The trees you don’t hear you don’t

hear, and the rest of them fall

silently, often at midnight.

                                    Even when

you try and try again, like all the

childish fables say you should; even

smack in the middle of the forest,

in the middle of the night, in the

middle of winter; even though

you keep your eyes open, your ears

peeled; even then, the falling trees

and the winter’s midnight night

remain silent.

                     All the silent night

long, all the falling trees keep falling;

but all you can hear is the nothing.

     

Turtleglass

Montana Mouthful (Print & ePub) June 2018

He puts a glob of turtleglass

under the jeans in her suitcase

before she goes away.

                                  Later,

when she calls him after midnight

to tell him she’s arrived, tell him

that she misses him already,

and he answers the phone,

calls her his little turtle dove

and she doesn’t react,

                                he knows

she hasn’t yet unpacked, hasn’t

found his little round travel gift.

                                 He hopes

she’ll find it nestled in the jeans

shiny in the shiny morning; hopes

she’ll put it in her pocket, keep

their little green secret crystal

close to her heart all day long;

hopes it brings her safely home

                                and soon.

New Snow and Disease

Medical Literary Messenger (Print & eBook) June 2018

It’s freezing here & there’s
new snow. I can’t write a word
and the doctors want a second look,
another look inside, and yet
another. I’m X-rayed to death
and there’s new snow and I can’t
write a word. I’m thinking of you,
Doctor Guru, out in sweet Siouxland,
your deskful of papery lab reports,
neatly stacked and white.

There’s new snow here this morning
and I’m spending my time these days
in labs and waiting rooms
waiting to hear something
I’m not wanting to hear.
I’m having my coffee on the porch;
I’m looking out at a full foot of new snow
and I’ve nothing more to say.

One test leads to another, no?
Nothing speaks to me now.