Ruin

I live in a ruin.

Beside: the stormed

beaches of Normandy;

Alongside: the remnants

of Dien Ben Phu;

Inside: central New Orleans.

Any battle you care

to remember;

A disembodied self -

not quite the self

anymore.

Published in Brevity Poetry Review

Dismantled

Here I sit, dismantled:

ice cold lips

where sweet whispers

once were.

Sealed in spite.

Published in Napalm and Novocain

Fine as Wine

So you really are gone.

Anyone there?

The flight of steps

leads to a dark-lit

wasteland of

humid bedsheets.

The room where

I died is where

you exposed me.

Cold, cold bed…

Thinking of Langston Hughes.

Life is fine,

Fine as wine…

Hey, Langston,

just for me:

sprout a

symphony of colours

out of the sound

of blue.

Published in Napalm and Novocain

Grief

Dumbstruck.

I was blind.

(...)

Grief.

Anger.

Pain.

Silence.

You've gone.

Next to us,

an old man

reads a newspaper.

Alone:

English boys

don't show

their feelings.

I'm cold, in August.

Grief.

Words have

been emptied

from my brain.

Fear.

Published in Napalm and Novocain