Ghosts

She was not fortunate in any of those to whom
Her love flowed forth, but somehow wounded hope
Survived betrayal, enabled her to cope
With the intimate infamy of masqueraded doom.
With friends like hers, no wonder she felt pain;
With nowhere to hide, alas, that’s where she hid.
She put a brave face on everything she did,
Looking for kindness to mollify disdain,
And when the roof falls in, and desolation
Stares her mercilessly in the face,
The actress takes over, a theatrical grace,
In a light mist of mercy, a visitation.
Screaming is strength, once the men are gone,
And hope amounts, then, to being on her own.

Vision and Code

We need not over-manage confusion.
As potency evolves to expertise
In dealing with futility and illusion
And healing forms of love’s beloved disease,
A hard-wired modesty takes the place
Of smugness disguised as objectivity;
As diffidence gradually reforms the face,
The old sophomore earns seniority.
The code spirals down inevitably,
In silences and pauses, expirations,
Unreturned calls, unanswered sympathy,
Mistaken glances, mysterious sensations,
And wisdom remains as what has been said
In this code by the voices in the head.

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