HOW IT WAS OR WASN'T
Women like crushed petals in your leather-bound history.
Midday light like the dresses they wore
then shed when dusk and your hands came down.
*
Once, a woman whose eyes even in repose exacted a toll.
And long letters, lusty imitations of love, drives
in the country, moon-blanched and heat-revved petting.
Leaves overhead suggestive of infinite un-joined hands
though applause was clearly in order.
*
And every once in a while discrepancies or fallacies
in your recollections, bewilderments
where you seemed to say and believe
selfless things, do them, and were beloved.
---Originally appeared in Flint Hills Review
Women like crushed petals in your leather-bound history.
Midday light like the dresses they wore
then shed when dusk and your hands came down.
*
Once, a woman whose eyes even in repose exacted a toll.
And long letters, lusty imitations of love, drives
in the country, moon-blanched and heat-revved petting.
Leaves overhead suggestive of infinite un-joined hands
though applause was clearly in order.
*
And every once in a while discrepancies or fallacies
in your recollections, bewilderments
where you seemed to say and believe
selfless things, do them, and were beloved.
---Originally appeared in Flint Hills Review