Poems from the fields of Yakima

[ube86]

I've always detested saying goodbye
the totality
ireevocability
finality.
Now however
it is starting to register
that going to mexico
(pronounced meh-he-co)
is not just leaving the state
or the country
it's leaving.
Maybe for eternity
(or close enough to count)
so, my prior soldierchild
mi princesa de "punk rock"
goodbye.
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye.
Good Luck.
Goodbye

- - -

The sky is inky oily black
over dull points of light
for all the world like an oil spill
over a backlit glass floor.
It's cold as the depths of Hel
and I think Loki's erstwhile daughter
might even be good company tonight.
Thoughts rise unbidden
and streak across the miles
to remind of
soft pillows and warm blankets
hot skin and light hair
the hollow of a back
and the curve of a throat
tears on my chest, and a quiet shaking cry.
Perhaps there will be soup and wine
or coffee and Focoult
Platonic jokes and talk
or perhaps
perhaps closer, more intimate.
Either is wonderful
and preferable
to an oilslick sky
and the cruel biting wind.

- - -

If truth was light
it would be a blazing
searing red
that none could behold
without becoming blind