snowed in
the dog clicks
from room to room

lilies light
the light

my daughter’s voice cracks
across two continents

we windowshop

my son speaks a secret
i always knew

harvest moon
the long pull
of faraway children

family picnic
the new wife’s rump
bigger than mine


Open House

He comes to the door holding a full wine glass never
a good sign talking non-stop about the cold, the heat, politics,
the ex, the girlfriend, time at work (too much), time at home
(never enough), and through it all pours one glass after another
without spilling a drop until we all stand there glass in hand
waiting for a sign that this time it will not end badly

empty room
a teacup holds
the light

Visiting Day
for Patrick Beary (d. 16Jan05)

high on my da’s shoulders i was no more than five
into the bar we went and i carrying the beer bucket
the barman calling out beer…here…beer…here
…the barman filling it overflowing what a head on
her can you imagine 5 cents for all that beer can you
imagine that and da and I laughing all the way home
he carried me

overheated room
a scent of mothballs
from the open drawer