That is Not What I Meant at All

Published in Subtletea. If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.” T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

And she set her teacup down on the table at the O.K. Cafe.
She said nothing.

I knew I had passed the dagger, handle first, her way,
And face-forward turned my back.

(May the lady have a heart
With a side of bitter dipping sauce?)

She sipped again.
Nervous, not thirsty.

"Maybe you misunderstood." I made
Odd noises on the diner vinyl.

(The clock is ticking loudly
Like a sharpening guillotine.)

"I meant, like friends..."
And she rose and left the room.

Anxiety

There are triangular shards of reality
Which fall across my aperture
Cut me like glass thrown by
A laughing dwarf into the fire in his night
Of debauchery
Dig for my blood
The treasure of what
Is real
Or they slice, gently and brutally like a dissected onion
Cut thin for the microscope
Exposing layer after layer
Fear is only
Hungover anticipation
It hurts
Never
Argosy forward, moving
Anathema
Pink holy water

And the pills--
The creative baby of my mind
Lovely new born fetus
Lulled to sleep
Into a anesthetized bliss of heavenly sterile dreams.

Graded

from Ain't Milton: A Chapbook

Across the street from the church,
The neon sign is bleeding red—harsh and raw.
Inside the chapel the flash is turned to art as bits of red melt
With stained glass blue of Christ the Shepherd.
Shades of lavender and purple,
Imprints of a kingly garment.

The chapel is silent as the teacher sits among the shards of light.
Red like the pen of judgment dances with the blue
As cool as peace, or the lines of college-ruled paper.
He reflects the light as he reflects on his work.

And the lights throw the question,
“Do you love them?” across the pews into his lap.
The papers are graded.

Do you love them?
Curriculum is complete.

Do you love them?
The professional boundaries are upheld.

Do you love them?

“Tell us you love us.”

A thousand students past, current, and yet to come
Line the beams of light, dancing among them,
Posing their final exam.

One simple question: 0 or 100.

Answer correctly and every mistake is forgiven,
Wrongly, and every lesson is futile.

“Do you love us?”

The defining colors cut deeply.
The red pulses across his hands, down his arms.
That’s not the question I studied for.
Never in an education class was that objective covered.

Sometimes between the task and the reward lies the mission forgotten.
Sometimes the colors are blinding.
Sometimes the prism of our tears diffuses the colors like stained glass.

I am much unlike the Shepherd.
Forgive me, for I am weak…
Forgive me, for I have fallen many times under your gaze…
And it hurts to let you go.

But, even though if graded on my perfection I would need to repeat the class,
If graded on the final question,
My valedictory answer would echo through this chapel into the Shepherd’s ears,
And my resounding “yes” would be my only commencement gift.

To AB

The railing, with the vines tendriling at the ends,
Was old and black iron, paint peeling.
The bolt which held it to the mortar
Lay in a hole twice its size.
No one noticed it at the cement steps
With the brick columns.
It was just a railing—unobtrusive.

Until, leaning on it, I gave way
And fell as it released its hold,
And I sat in the leaves by the porch
And held a railing.

And so it is with things on which we lean.
Their usefulness
And simple beauty
Are not recognized
Until we fall.

On Finding God with Savannah

Do You feel the way I feel,
Now as I cradle her, her first breaths
Inhaling a new world?
My new creation fidgets,
Restless for the newness of what I find worn.
Do You feel the inexplicable
Delight
That I, the first human she has ever seen,
Imprisoned by her amethyst eyes,
Feel tonight?
Do You feel this ache which feels like heartbreak
In its depth,
But richer and more hopeful than the first day of
Summer
When I cry?
Do You treasure me this way
When You hold me?

This is a prayer
For all of us fatherless
And for all of us failed fathers
That You will hold us
Closer than I hold her tonight.
Amen.