melissaahowells

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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Love A Cat

I Long For Stars

Max on the max

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE



If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

All Beings Considered

A Man Called Tsuris

The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

A Long Long Time Ago

Sharp Sticks For The Cinderella's

Cool Pea-Green New Leaves....(Imaginarium)

Great Spirit

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Broken Things Are Beautiful

It No Longer Surprises Me...

OFTEN I'VE WONDERED AS I LISTENED TO TRAINS

My Heart Knows.....(TO THOSE WHOSE HEARTS LIVE IN SPRING)

I REMEMBER THIS DAY AS IF IT HAD BEEN RECORDED IN A BOOK

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

After Wide Sargasso Sea

This Firestorm Of Dying Lights..

The Magical Closet( re-edited for clarity of metaphor)

Odd Things, Odd Thing.....

Kikipurr (For Our Boy/Girl Cats)

Don't Breathe 3/17/2021 12:21 AM PST

I'm Out Of My Dreams 3/12/2021...the pain-body and dreams

The Legacy List

(MELISSA'S) ALL---TRUE---ISMS....3/3/2021 4:51 pm PACIFIC STANDARD TIME

Wisdom of the Infinite

21st Century Proverbs...more will be added, you wait and read...

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WE SHARE... march 2021 poetry


*******

we are two
two men
two lovers
in one shared flat

our space was close
now even smaller
as the world's paused
and we've consolidated
we're compact

we share
the space
the table
the shower
and especially the bed

he sleeps easily
noise-fully snoring
sonorously
loud-fully
as I watch him--
with all the minutes
and the hours studying his profile
I could sketch him in my head

He eats
and smacks his lips
belches like a sonic boom
and then coyly grins

He snorts often
when he's laughing
trims his nails with his teeth
and uses a card to pick at his mouth
he might be brushing them
instead

He leaves piles of clothes
in every room
and whiskers in the sink
the clothes gather like mineral deposits
accumulating on the floor
the chairs
the bed

my eyes follow him
noticing whatever he does
wherever he goes

I sigh deeply when he returns
his frame filling the doorway
never block out the sun

any room he leaves
feels half-empty
he doesn't complain
as I follow him picking up dishes
and folding clothes

in the morning
I see him wearing pinstripes
peering underneath his long overcoat
and how his cologne
often lingers
and how I lean into its bouquet
long after he's left for work.


legal copyright for this poem 10:10 AM PST time and date stamped--2/24/2021
and also FOR THIS POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND
ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD....

WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE, WILL RETURN FOR EDITING AS NEEDED








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