Her Balcony

Romeo balcony

She ordered Romeo from

her balcony of happy

endings; what came in the mail

dried dreams to dust, delivered

disillusionment stillborn.

Seeking life in the garden

below reduced love to mere

snake in the grass; unnumbered

shattered crescent moons, galling

tear-stained timekeepers, kept pace

with waning confidence, while

wounds slowly faded, shadows

on the dial. When once she

lifted her head, above thorns

and crafty serpents, True Love

waited there, on silvery

wings. Inhaling sweeter air

gave new dreams fresh purpose; her

songs, sung not from empty purse

but full heart, hold the power

to stir even paradise

lost. From her balcony she

commands nothing, but receives

what the moon delivers as

a legacy wrapped in love.

Your Loss

Lies slip off your forked tongue like butter,

which of course wouldn’t melt in that mouth.

Simpering sweetly, you charm and hoax

and hide a heart with rotten flesh,

a fruit whose decay runs to the core

but whose skin pretends otherwise.

Ever the deflector, you shove your shame

onto passers-by with innocent gaze.

Now that I have found you out,

you snake in the grass,

you wretched, blind, diseased Edenic apple,

mine will be a Sword of Truth,

cutting through the atrophied layers to expose the blight.

If you choose,

my blow could bring your gangrene fresh air;

the inner putrescence, if allowed to contact Reality,

can become nutritious and satisfying

(after the pain of exposure fades).

But I fear that you will cover your rot with

another cloak of magical skin

and hide your maggots from Truth’s reach.

Your loss…