OLD FRIEND
Old friend, I think of you still sometimes.
A ceaseless hiss in the back of my mind
Tempts me into dwelling on things long past.
Come, just this once
Take my hand
And follow me down
Memory lane,
My very own fairy tale.
Here is where we met
On opposite sides of a river
With no bridge in sight.
Each day we came
And sat under the rustling trees
Feet playing in the waves.
Sunlight skittered upon the water
Twining with our laughter
And starting a fire.
Here is the meander
Where one day I jumped
When the distance became too much.
Eyes closed, I see
Your hand holding mine
Pulling me out.
Eyes open, I gasp on the dank bank
Where the current spat me
At your behest:
Me here, you there.
A buzzing in my ears says you are near
Standing on the other side of the river.
Old friend, I think of you still sometimes.
SILENT WITNESSES
The door slams and resonates
with the last notes of a dance
more violent than a waltz.
A boiled-over pot on the stove
and acrid sinuous smoke
stinging the eyes and throat.
Chopped vegetables scattered
like cadavers on the counter
copy bloody battlefields.
The toy castle, built brick by brick,
Is no longer a home but a house of cards
Flattened by words, those vicious, vindictive winds.
A teddy bear, cast away by an angry hand,
lies face down on the ground,
head tucked into the corner to drown out the shouts.
To its left, a smashed up plate,
Its pieces remnants of one
painful, piercing shriek.