Like the *** you transferred
into calcareous soil, not knowing
it would turn the leaves yellow
as they rot.
Under a winter sun
I gave too much
or not enough,
the dirt arid then wet through,
half a glass of stale water
remaining below the roots.

The dark green, the larger ones fell first,
turned yellow on their edges
or from their ribs,
their stems browning until they failed,
to carry the weight,
to nourish the foliage.
The smaller leaves rolled on themselves,
day by day sagging a little more,
light green and brittle,
crumbling.

I moved the plant,
and moved it again,
by the window for some sun,
but with the cold seeping through!
You provided the chemicals,
I moved the plant again,
aware by now that I might be too late
and it may not recover,
not when the sun warms the earth anew,
not when the world rights itself once more.

Though - if the rot has not taken hold
yet of the roots
or of the branches,
and if our balms are enough to save
the trunk with the future stems,
we may once again
see spiking curls grow
and darkening green leaves unfold,
wondrous flowers bloom,
red flamingos standing tall.

What should I wish for in the world of after,
the during still happening I am shifting,
by genes, hormones and choice, our rafter,
the years unraveling as my mind is sifting

from boulders to gravel, the woven threads
sketching a woman and a life on hold,
the dynamic blues and yellows to static reds,
suddenly visible the remains of the mould

in fragments breaking, as I meander through
culture, passion, despair, week after week,
turning into months, I gather my few
by the sofa, the table or the floor, we speak

and I seek throughout a meaning for it all,
a noble string, a crass wire, a silver lining
of hope, to see again the ones we call,
the aging, the sick, on their chairs reclining.

The mould cracks and I gain something other,
in insight and altruism accrued,
in selfishness, in misplaced pride, why bother
when I can squander myself in food?

They sit and talk and demand that I stand
true and clean, through lament and laughter
and the days I will to play in the sand
as they grasp and grow, my wishes for after.

Second wave rolling over us,
our lives shocked into shift
we face a wall and brace oursleves
for the hit,
a deep breath in
we observe and count until
shaken we lose sight,
when up becomes down
for a while,
locked in embrace,
pushed and pulled by waters
we fight the flow, or submit,
wondering fleetingly;
How long still,
how long will we last
confined under,
before the surge recedes,
our bodies floating in her retreat,
our hearts and our minds imprints
fading on the sand,
unless
hands buried and knees covered,
saltwater streaming on the beach,
we gasp,
soon to stand under an open sky.

I'm telling you that's it, I quit!
A year on now I weigh a ton,
drinking my way out of this pit.

Hotel meals with a book I sit,
a woman on her own must be fun...
I'm telling you that's it, I quit.

Day after day sleeping a whit,
puff in the lungs and pulse on the run,
drinking my way out of this pit.

Monday drive bawl or afternoon fit,
abusing I yell before the sun,
I'm telling you that's it, I quit.

A ring and a promise, we almost split,
I never home or seeking to stun,
drinking my way out of this pit.

I will admit I learned a bit.
Of colleagues and business I knew none.
I'm telling you that's it, I quit
drinking my way out of this pit.

Existing unrest exacerbated or
change in climate lowering the cloud cover
surrounding the mountain peaks For once
visible the centuries of suffering
now leading us into violence The
tables upturned by an invention spreading
like wildfire across dry meadows
or storm rivers under the seas
Bewildering Frankenstein monster
a stage for
the flowers of the brains to radiate
in strands of light above the lands
Connecting
discoveries and creations
Shared
passion and truth and
kindness valued in
a world in transit An echo
of upheavals from ninety five theses
when the rolling waves of knowledge open
for children to follow their drive
where it takes them
A transfer to learn
without belonging pains while
we downsize our upkeep
and upsize our bonds
our unfettered feet buried in the sand and our
heads held where the wind blows and the
sun shines We dance
We sing to a tune freed
on our way to be and to become
and together
in time
maybe
save what can be
                                     or end with beauty