Almost
Almost grasped what Grandmother Grace knew
Last Sunday sitting in church, almost knew
What Alexander Campbell grasped when, confronted
With the desolate orphan, he told her, “You
Are a child of God.
The Children I’ll Never Have Make an Appearance
It’s a quiet Sunday morning. I’m alone,
startled to see a female figure, hear her exclaim,
He sees us, he feels us. I knew he would, eventually!
She looks over her shoulder briefly.
Love of Distance
He’s enchanted with the idea
of reaching through space,
wants me to wait by the window
while he climbs the far-off mountain …
Ars Ecphrastica
Although your fingers and my eyes agree,
It is unheard of, Cameron, what you see—
Describing scenes of color, form, and light
Which you perceive by any means but sight.
War Sonnet with a Simile Borrowed from Kyle Okoke’s ‘Matthew 6:28’
Chest like a trapdoor and me a medic,
parachuting in, leaning over the body shattered
on the rubbled road, I listen to the heart ticking
like unexploded ordnance …
A Shipwrecked Person
When I woke from my afternoon nap, I wanted
to hold onto my dream, but in a matter of seconds
it had drifted away like a fine mist. Nothing
remained; oh, perhaps a green corner of cloth
pinched between my fingers, signifying what?