The Beast

You struggle through patrol, head drooping
as you climb the stairs, followed by a sad,
longing look back as your legs give out again,
leaving you to sit on the middle tread and
wait for me to help you inside. The treat I
offer does nothing to hide your shame, yet
minutes later you stand a proud protector
by the front door, ears perking at every noise
and then laying flat as the threat is identified
and dismissed. To you, it’s already another day,
another moment – something to enjoy. But I
am still replaying that last cluster in my head,
the vet call, the new prescription added to the
two you already have, the rescue doses of
Valium that almost killed you and wondering
if it would have been better if it had. You lay
your head in my lap as I write, a privilege that
was never permitted in the days before the beast,
and even though your body is tired, your legs
are sore and your tail can only manage a weak
thump on the sofa as I scratch your ears, your
bright eyes meet mine and I know you still want
to be here, even if only for one more day.

~*~

~mvh

Lillian

He entered the room on silent soles
and left a single yellow rose on her pillow.
Her tired grey eyes filled with azure
and her battle-worn soul tugged away
from her withered body in a single gasp.
Then there was peace.
Then there was nothing.

~*~

~mvh

Seven

Bobby had more GI Joes. His gear included camouflage
oil paint that we'd smear all over our faces and laugh.

Cobra infantry covered a full square of the concrete drive,
black and blue, ready to stomp behind their commander.

He was fair and his freckles stood out
on the bridge of his nose like milk chocolate chips.
The beetles squirmed over each other in bags
that hung from the sapling maples marking the front.
A hornet buzzed in over our heads, swooping in on us
for the occasional lop-sided recon as we set up for battle.

Bobby pushed his yellow-white bangs
off of his sweaty pink forehead
and raised his index finger to the sky.

Scarlett smothered in my fist before I set her free;
she flew too close to the sun without swivel grip.

Some things never change.

~*~

~mvh

Let it Ride

I watch, suffer
in silence,
and wait.

I don't know what for;
the silence is unsettling.

I won't speak
– don't need to –
words mean nothing
(everything)
to me.

Still, I am still
in unspoken reverence
for all that you are and
all that you will never be.

I imagine
all the possibilities,
scribble them down,
crumple them up
and toss them aside;
I can't throw you away.

My escape is my reality.
It turns me on.
Are you coming along,

or

is that too much to ask?

~*~

~mvh

vision

true love is silent;
(beyond affectation or token)
noble reserve unspoken
offered unbroken, sacred and still.

~*~

~mvh

Vicious Circle

I see your profile in the cemetery,
the lean-to tent in the woods just across the bridge;
God, we were young then.

We stood hand in hand looking down at the grave
of your twin not knowing that in a few short years
our only son would join him there.

That day is locked forever in a cold snapshot
of black and white. I tried to dress it up with silver and blue
for you, my cowboy, my captor, my protector -
but it will never be like it used to be.

I look out to the west and I see hope,
I see possibility; the last gate
before the realization of the nexus.
I am drawn to it, but you won't let me go.

~*~

~mvh

King's Ferry

Had I known the poem, it would have been different.

Jailhouse tats, ...dreads?, army green
fall-apart Freddy jeans that hung low,
Vision Street Wear and red Chucks -
you walk the jetty in the nighttime mist,
each stone a step up in my eyes.

Discarded limbs from the feast of the gulls
litter the sand at my feet.

I wonder if they felt their souls ripped from their shells on the ascent?

You balance well above the crashing waves; you always did.
I kick a ragged claw and head back to the car.

I am alone with you, always alone.

You remain facing west, forever
drawn into a world you would never take me.

~*~

~mvh