Still Waiting

We spoke for 62 minutes today.
We spoke while I cruised through a McDonald’s Drive-thru.
We spoke as I checked the tire pressure on my car
And complained about the sensor light coming on again.
We spoke as I ate, long pauses as I chewed.
We spoke as I perused the news.
In 62 minutes today we had to condense 24 hours of our marriage.
It was not enough.
To connect.
To be intimate.
To describe our day.
To explain what needs to be done.
To discuss our child.
To exalt over her achievements.
It can never be enough.
In 62 minutes every day for the past 300 days.
How do we stay in touch?
Phone conversations.
Video calls.
And thousands of texts that simply say
I love you
Wait for me.

Building Castles in the Air

Slats of sunlight dapple

the edges of my memories

of you

of us

twirling in the kitchen

laying sideways in our bed

blinding our view of the television

where we curled up each evening

the warming Spring days meant open

windows, wafting

breezes, evening

strolls across the railroad tracks

during lengthening evening twilight

holding hands

holding hands, our breaths

as we wait for separation

a year long pacing back and forth




slowly becoming numb

with every creeping day.


Your hands trace the lines of my back
Sending thrilling intensity over my skin,
Goose flesh rising, senses under attack,
I cannot wait for you to touch me again.
Our bodies entwined as we lost hold of the world
We couldn’t seem to escape the lure of the sheets
We could lie forever next to each other curled,
Timeless, hours, years, a day, century, or week.
Your soft lips whisper kisses over mine
Electricity rising from the depth of my soul
Gentle, firm, loving caresses, genuine,
Losing myself in euphoria, losing control.
Fitted together like two pieces of a broken pot
A whole separated painfully with sharp immediacy
Our jagged edges for their mates being sought
To rejoin someday, in touch, in purpose, seamlessly.