Poem for a Player

She sings an outdated number,

her dance has no rhythm,

she laughs at what the mirror says.



in her palm are lines

that speak a language

no words could convey.


If he said he loved her,

she would not understand.

The blankness in his eyes.

She does.

His gems are pretty pebbles.

They belong

to the queen of roulette.

She wears a crown

studded by winds

below the rainbow.

He uses lyrics

that would calm a lover’s heart.

She sways to the harp

of passionate innocence.

Of the sea

that quenches its thirst with the river.


He made the rules.

The game is his.

But she never enters the field.

She senses him and

she is lost to him.


in her palm are lines

that speak a language

no words could convey.


Keep her blindfolded, player,

she can see him still.


Terms of engagement

My passion is not compassion.

My love is not kind.

                             If you want comfort and your loneliness erased,

                             get a pillow and a dog.


ImageMy aloneness

inspires me,

transfixes me,

cripples me,

liberates me.

I have traveled this whole life with him.

He doesn’t let me go,

or let me be.


He loves me to distraction.

I know its a fatal attraction.

At tiny moments,

I think,

what if I run away.

Can I?

But he’s my shadow,

the only safety shade I know.

I may be a step ahead,

but he is always behind me.

Sometimes I wish

he had another lover,

and I could go under cover,

only to discover,

his morbid power,

over my emotional tower.