Little Poem Things

One for The Road, 
Saturday, May 25th
 

I wish I could stuff that evening in a time capsule

Tuck in the red, green, yellow threads of memories

Your eyes,

Liquid with devotion and burning incense

Staring up at me.

I wish I could stick it in a bottle to pour when needed

On nights when you stare daggers at my poor heart

Through the shape shifting mirror 

of a mercurial muse

Unforgiving, flitting, free.

Nishigondha

Thursday, May 23rd 

Submerged in a sea of rain
Smelling excruciatingly like the night

She stood alone in her bright colors.

Sore thumb against the line of ants
She bloomed, wafting heady dirty desire
Waiting; to be swept off of her feet

Or be bought for the night.

.