Tree and Stone

The sun in Fairplains casts blue shadows.
I want to say something that matters;
how laughter binds to memory.

But nothing seems enough
because here is the photo of
a decorated Christmas tree.

And carved into black stone,
the likeness of a child I do not know.
I want to say time understands.

What comes to mind, instead, is snow.

While Pondering the Iris of His Eyes

I read the last line
of someone else's poem -
So let him go.


I understand love is trauma.

Deep into the null night
the vacant heart lets down its rain song.
I float whispers of him away, in whispers
of him, I float away.

Poor and without stars, I am.
In blue shadows, by memory
I understand; not every flower opens.