False Safety

The repeated
police sirens
lull him to sleep.
When awake, he says,
'I like to be alone
except when I'm afraid.'
Pulling on his collar
is a ghost he calls friend.
Catching him
by his tender throat,
he understands
the price he pays
for false safety.

Pebble

I don't expect apologies,
sharply-formed like a pebble in my boot,
so I am the one
to say
I'm sorry
over and over,
until the sharpness lessens,
until I receive permission
to free my heel
from your fucking grip

Across the Bar

"Hello," said trial and error
to the twilight of experience.
"What will it be today?"
"Rest," she replied.
"I want to rest."
And in a fluid, sweeping motion,
trial and error
honored her wish.
He waved his hand
over her golden head,
and she rested it,
nestled in
folded arms
across the bar.

The Peacemaker

I want so much
to be easier
to love--
to start
from square one
less often,
to be held to fewer
expectations,
a tide
whose only job
is coming in,
not to polish and refine.
Because I can't anymore.
I can't inspire
or crack a loaf
of bread over my knee,
and say, "Here,
be at peace
with me.
Settle
for my limitations."
I will not be well again,
but it's so difficult
to know
that healing
is not an option.
I want so much
to not be difficult.
I want the routine
of joy without
sacrifice--
no more
blood in the bowl,
a tide
that only rushes
past.