2 Poems

Communication

Coming home, I am still a stone wall. In terms you can understand: I am Petain, and you shall not pass. Your chances with me are on the blocks. You want to know how it was but you shall not pass. What you really want to know is how it is, how it can be better. We both strain with tense muscles: yours nestled under soft folds, mine bulging with the veins in my neck to affirm the existence of friction.

Construction Site

The rooms here seep with tar thinned only by the sweat of the men on the roof. Tarps flap like feeble sails begging for wind and doomed to a perpetual grovel. They are above but lack our height.