She is waiting for dawn, When the dewdrops will sit On every blade of grass and the sky will be lit, With just enough light To see but not be seen, as she dissapears softly Just like a waking dream. She clutches her bag, Her hands start to shake. As the panic rises her will starts to break. Just a few minutes more, Another cup of tea Then she'll leave this sad life And finally be free. She stands at the door Breathing in the fresh air She know deep down Its the last chance if she dares. No more telling lies, No more scared for her life, No more breaks and bruises No more being his wife.

"Sugar and spice and everything nice"

I am prepared to bring all the water
of the world to your hospital bed,
from the oily boat-crunching teeth
of North Atlantic waves to the window
cleaning blue of Carribean coves,
cappucino flood waters of Sri Lanka,
foam-filled gutters of China, African
pea soup puddles, and beef broth
brewed by Brazilian mines. How long
can you survive between your saline drip
and catheter? If I throw a melting glacier
in your face, will you wake?
Will a cabernet blood bath revive you?
You lie, your eyes forever shut,
dreamings of kings and crowns.

1.

This smoke, this poison, it chokes
(nothing to be desired)
the hope buried beneath the roofs.  The few
that scurry through darkened streets drown
(in vaporous sea)
in blacks, blues, in blood.

A crying child is truth.  Bodies 
piled in alleys are real.  Hands
tremble, eyes dart to the shadows,
teeth clench,
"Are we really this helpless?"

2.

From the back, a careless toss
of dry soil to blanket the box stowed
beneath the earth.  The barren field is 
marred by grey stones that populate every

At the beach
amidst a milling crowd
I am lost in my thoughts
trying to gather them
grain by grain
on the sea shore
drenched to the skin
in the glow of a setting sun.
 
Struggling against the rising tide
stirred by a howling wind,
I try garnering furtively
these dissipating sunbeams.
 
I get up
as the relentless waves
swash around my feet
insistent upon reining me in
with the pull of a rip current.
 
I turn around
in the gathering darkness
to walk away
with my back to a restive sea;
 

One of us would stand out on their own, you were the oldest and usually the one to stand there, telling us to take giant steps or fairy steps, or stop moving, like statues. We'd move slowly across the grass, eager for our chance to control the world, or stand frozen in strange positions, knowing they wouldn't last for long

Out of all the things I have lost,