A Tree and an Old Maid

'The tree and an old maid' There’s a tree in my isolated back-yard, Yellow, pastel, bowed, stem sick and shard, Once emerald leaves shrunken with time, Once rich life taken out, eaten by our crime, Branches thin, trying feebly to reach the space, Leaves dim olive, fighting the wind’s burly chase, Fruits exploited, dejected, no…

This Time Tomorrow

The lasting connection, the one That bonded you and I, together, When it shattered before the end, The killin’ spasm of agony, The splurge of the blood – your blood, When you cried for a saving, Baby, it hurt me, too. To dismember. To remove the remains, Because your silent tears, O’ it hurt me.…