The Kiss

Published May 15, 2014 by rlmcdermott

Who’ll sing
my song
when I
am gone?

Who’ll paint
the sky?

I live
for love
who can’t
be loved–it
is my fate.

I am root
and I am
flower–soon
will be my
bitter hour.

A knife,
a rope,
the wind,
the sea,

these are
the things
that call
to me.

You stand up
and I fall down;
I dance for you
who cannot see.

Is love
what I am
all about–
I sell my soul
and I sell out?

A pair of eyes,
a wisp of hair
and I am lost
and I am there.

Wars are wars,
countries fall,
children die and
I am born.

Again and always,
I return to find you gone;
there must be something
more than this–someway
to end this bitter kiss.The Kiss

Headlines

Published May 13, 2014 by rlmcdermott

How did
this happen;
dead beneath
the headlines–
blue metal,
blue bird,
blue child?

Imagine
the moment,
the sharp
slap of air,
the ferocious
snap of wing,
and then
the still
and certain fall.

And you,
the child,
all breakable
bone; your
arm twisted
until it spiraled
out of its socket,
and like the
bird fell
down.

On a cold Sunday,
inside a newspaper,
beside a metal dumpster
two things dead–
a bird and a child.Child

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