The Shallow End of the Gene Pool

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He just can’ t get past

the shallow end of the gene pool –

his thoughts are skipping stones,

bouncing off a surface as smooth as glass.

Any conclusions which need to be drawn

are best left to the artists;

he is too occupied

in swallowing his own press

to go off the deep end.

He Never Saw Her Value

He never saw her value,

the way the sun drew out

the gold in her hair and  her heart,

until it was too late.

Solid,

comforting,

mining worth from the

crumbs he tossed at her feet,

she died to him slowly;

over years of neglect,

the arteries seeking sap

withered and found new source.

He reaches,

but grasps air –

she is falling,

falling,

ore he can no longer touch,

gem he can no longer claim

as his own.

One More Tree

Her words rasp at his flesh

and tear his manhood;

splintered,

he picks up the pieces and goes to his

dead-end job

to be passed over for the next promotion,

 dignity flayed.

His progeny

taunt his mannerisms behind his back,

and chip away at his character

with teeth drilled to

fine points.

When the financial storm hits,

and his trunk shatters,

who will hear one more tree

falling in the forest?