He was almost to the bench when his teammates tackled him in a frenzy, the crowd roaring as the scoreboard added two points—and gave his team the win.
Six months later, my husband handed me another paper plate and sweetly volunteered, “I’ll do the dishes tonight.”
My wife woke to the thud of me hitting the floor, and by the time she reached me, I looked up from staring at the empty space below my knee and whispered, “I forgot.”
By the time we noticed the stars, the bottle was empty and we’d somehow solved every problem in the world except who was getting up to make dinner.
She slowly stood, stared down every dad in the street, marched to the bucket for ammunition and then took off after them cackling with delight while they scattered for cover.
The last one was only three seconds long: “Hey Mom, I’ll call you when I get to the base.”
When we pulled into the cemetery, Lissa looked at the flowers in her lap and whispered, “But how will he hear me, Mommy?”
The second everyone started clapping, he threw his arms up and shouted, “Did we win?”
When my five-year-old daughter placed her toy phone in his palm today, he slowly held it to his ear and smiled, “Hello, sweetheart.”
today is over
its story’s been told
the sheets wait for me
all crisp and cold
moonbeams dance
across the walls
shadows flicker
as bedtime calls
head on the pillow
thoughts settle deep
the world fades away
as I drift into sleep
you look
i look
you look away
come on now
do you wanna play?
eeny
meeny
miny
moe
i wonder
where this
can go
so
that was
something
wasn’t it?
maybe
just
a little bit?
you’re taking
too long
to make
your move
what’s it gonna
take
to get through
to you?
i’ve given you
signs
good signs
excellent signs
possibly
undetectable signs
take
a chance
steal
a glance
maybe
even find
romance
tick
tock
heart’s in
a spin
look at me
you did it again
sitting here
with a
silly grin
so
eeny
meeny
miny
moe
one of us
has got
to go—
first
no mistake you could make
would be bigger than this:
letting fear of making one
stand in the doorway
hand on the knob
while everything you almost chose
waits on the other side
Struck
Sparks
The dark departs
Sharp arrest
Inside my chest
Unreckoned alchemy confessed
Friction, ignition
A sudden fission
Deliberate collision of a sensory admission
Pulse: staccato
Fierce obbligato
Drank the danger like wine
Chaotic by design
Atmosphere thins
The celestial spin
Where does the horizon end and freefall begin?
Can’t think
Over the brink
No, wait
Too late
Thump in my heart like a closing gate.
A gasp
A trip
A fingertip
Electric blue on a trembling lip
Tumble crash
Burn to ash
Sudden, blinding, white-hot flash
Breath
Clutch
Hyper-velocity of a touch
No anchor
No line
Your skin against mine
Hey.
So,
this is awkward.
You’re still here.
Not here here.
Obviously.
Just somewhere
between my first thought
and the one
I keep trying
to replace it with.
I thought maybe
you’d fade.
People do, you know.
But then something happens—
a song,
a word,
someone laughing
from another room—
and there you are again.
Like my mind
has been saving your seat.
I’m not saying
I miss you.
That would imply
I ever had you.
And we both know…
Still,
sometimes absence
feels strangely specific.
Like there is a space
shaped exactly like you
in a life
you were never part of.
That’s ridiculous.
I know.
Anyway.
I just wondered
whether I ever appear
in yours.
Your thoughts, I mean.
Not your life.
If you did think of me,
even once,
what would it look like?
Anyway.
Never mind.
Hey.
you have written me
into so many places—
between the lines,
inside the pauses,
in all those little spaces
where you somehow
always find me.
you make me feel
clever,
beautiful,
wanted,
understood.
somewhere along the way,
while you were busy
turning me into poetry,
you became
the part I kept.
not the rhyme,
not the clever line,
not even the way
you make me smile
at my screen—
you.
the mind behind it.
the heart beneath it.
the man.
the one I look for
without meaning to.
so if you ever wonder
what all your poems
have done—
they made me want
to turn the page,
look back at you,
and say:
I see you, too.
A needle drops
on a world in cabaret.
I sip my Pink Martini
under low red light,
while a voice slips
through five different languages
just to say
the same beautiful thing.
Across the floor,
a Royal Crown highball
catches the glare
of a Postmodern Jukebox,
spinning today’s noise
pulled back eighty years.
All silk and swing
and cigarette smoke,
wrapped in a velvet fog.
A muted trumpet
sighs into a glass.
A trombone slides.
Somewhere near the bar,
a Combustible Edison
flickers in the sconces.
The lounge is full,
the tempo is slow,
and the midnight clock
runs backward.
The velvet curtains parted,
and the music lost its sound.
A breathless hush swept through the smoke
as every head turned round.
I crossed the floor, a silhouette
of dangerous, practiced grace;
every glass forgot to clink,
and every man forgot his place.
I floated through the smoky room,
slow enough to make them stare,
with emerald silk along my thigh
and diamonds woven through my hair.
A smile here.
A glance there.
A hand upon an arm.
I made attention feel like privilege,
and suspicion lose its charm.
The pianist missed a measure.
The dealer misread the cards.
The watchmen by the marble walls
forgot that they were guards.
While I laughed beneath the chandelier
and let them drink me in,
quiet hands relieved their pockets,
opened safes and slipped within.
A safe gave up its strands of pearls.
A locked drawer yielded gold.
A painting left its gilded frame.
No one noticed.
No one told.
I raised my glass at midnight,
gave the room one final smile,
then drifted toward the doorway
with unhurried, practiced guile.
The music slowly found its rhythm.
The room had passed my test.
They never saw the ruin coming
until I’d vanished with the rest.
By morning, every vault was empty.
Every camera showed a blur.
They blamed the staff, the locks, each other—
but no one thought of me.
After all,
I had done nothing.
I had only made certain
that every eye
was exactly
where I wanted it to be.
All eyes on me.
Hey.
Hi.
You.
Don’t look around,
I mean you.
So, hey.
I was, um, wondering…
no, never mind.
That’s ridiculous.
Forget I said anything.
Except, actually,
do you ever think about me?
Not a lot.
Not in a serious way.
Not in a thing way.
Just, you know,
once in a while.
Because sometimes
I’ll be doing something normal,
like making coffee
or pretending to listen,
and suddenly,
there you are.
Just standing around
inside my head
like you pay rent there.
Weird, I know.
Sorry.
I don’t mean anything by it.
Probably.
It’s just that you feel familiar,
like maybe I knew you before
I knew myself.
Like maybe,
in some other life,
I already liked your laugh,
already knew your hands,
already turned my head
when someone said your name.
Do you ever feel that?
No.
Don’t answer that.
Actually, do.
No, don’t.
We couldn’t.
We’re not.
This isn’t.
It’s nothing.
Except maybe
it was something once,
a long time ago.
Anyway.
Yeah.
So.
Hi.