Early

‘I wish I could help you better,’
I tell him,
my hands turning slow the
tea mug in front of me,
as we sit across the table
from one another.

Early morning
at the coffeeshop.

I watch him and he
watches his fingers.
A line creases in his forehead
as he does that strange arch with his
eyebrows
that turns his face into something
so striking
that I look away and tilt my tea
toward me to watch 

its dark ripples instead.
I wonder if things are
falling apart
from his point of view.
Solemn man.

His eyes change a little,
and I hope for a smile but don’t get one.
He suddenly straightens and
inhales like
he might yawn.
He holds his shoulders tight,
then drops them.
I wish I could read him better.
He begins tapping
the pad of his thumb on his mug.
“Thanks,” he says;
his eyes are crinkled at the edges, a
gentle almost-smile,
glancing briefly at
my eyes.
The look of
stormclouds in his eyes—
a painful dark—
lightningstrikes the back of my neck.
I scramble to
regain my balance.

I know
I can’t help him.
but maybe talking
here
is moving an inch in
a good direction

for him
and maybe that’s all
I’ve got.

edited from 09.2012

"You"

This poem is about someone from my past, not Claire.  It came to me when I was sitting in a writer's workshop listening to someone else's writing.

"You"

I gave you everything I had to give

and received jabs of unkind words in return.

My heart was out there for you and everyone to see

and you stomped on it, the pieces breaking unevenly as I 

attempted to appease you and keep everything from

falling apart.

I never said those three little words, but you were the

first person I felt them for, and it scared me—

justifiably.

You never lied to me, but omissions of truth are almost worse.

You said it was only a joke, but, to me, it did not seem

funny to make fun of my accent, my mannerisms, my

family, my being.

It’s been years, and some days, though I don’t miss you, and

don’t wonder “what if,” a scent or a song or a snatch of a

memory recalls you to mind

Your lupine teeth, your impossible blue eyes, your flaws I

refused to see because love is truly blind,

are all suddenly there in front of me.

And, thankfully, with a smile, I can turn away from your image

without regret or heart piercing sadness.

Because I am strong, and stronger than you ever imagined I

could be.

So, thank you, because if we were still a we, I wouldn’t be me.