As It Was in the Beginning

c. 2000

Like Cicada, this was another attempt at writing love poetry.  I fussed over it, had it printed on parchment paper, handbound with ribbon...and promptly stuffed the copies away.  Maybe it was on sale for a month or two.  Consider yourself lucky if you have a copy of this.  Looking back, it represented a hope for something better in the face of overwhelming odds.  But life isn't like a television show, and this boook still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth from the cruelty.

March

Rain taps my shoulder
With your fingertips,
The cool spring air
Breathing against
My neck, making me
Shiver with thoughts
Of your lips leaving
Their soft mark.