Reflections

I often retrace the paths that I’ve taken
Recalling, restlessly, your words mistaken.
Each time you arrive concealed in a dream,
Subtle and fatal, like air in my bloodstream.

If Auden was known as the more loving one,
Let me be remembered for loving none.
Instead of admiring the space between stars
I’ll let the rivers and rock be my memoirs.

A peek within a salt cellar shall prove
Myself detached from fate- removed!
With each gesture, these panels turn
But my own fortune told is unearned.

Any post-modern age poet worth their salt
Cannot pretend to write a word without fault.
Twenty years of poetry speaks out to confess:
Those who remain have embraced the mess.  

MSBQ

Vantage Point

The sun broke thickly
Over us, passing through
Both of us effortlessly.
I could feel the
Quiet warmth of
Spring sunshine pierce
My wintry gloom.
You had asked me if
I remembered where
I was a month ago:
My initial reaction,
Truly, had been a
Subtle form of amnesia.
(Reflection has never
Been my strong suit)

I thought about the
People and places that
I had surrounded myself
With, and the way I saw
My own path laid down,
Trailing off into darkness.
And then I saw it,
Shattered like glass,
Relief lifting weight
That I never knew I
Was carrying (or had
Long forgotten about).
I guess all I had
Needed was some
Perspective

MSBQ