Selected Poems
Epitaph (for SH)
We will be able walk on air
against our better judgement.
No try, do.
Each step will be clear to difficult.
When we start to wobble tip toe
and prance up against the dance.
After one high-wired slip and sway or
daddy long legged, half-goofy foot
effort; our strides will come easier.
Chalked out boxes in our sky
near impossible hop-scotch
oxygen wet, paint by numbers.
Just breathe.
Close your eyes
and float.
