I prefer to think of you
as a skull.
A skull and bones.
The very essential foundation of your being.
I watch your hands,
your bone hands,
as they move and gesture
to your speaking.
I do hear you. More,
I recognize that you are speaking
but your voice sounds as if
I were standing next to a waterfall,
my head covered with a pillow.
It must be your flesh speaking
and I have forgotten it.
You are but a skull and bones.
I watch you still. I wait and I listen
to the muffled waterfall of your voice
because soon the flesh will be silent
and your bones will sing
as crystal clear as a still mountain lake
that meets the sky
and stretches on
A head-turning sound.
That makes a room suddenly still.
Never a splash of red
And it was over.
On impact, we all knew
The delicate life that was lost.
She never had sweetness
Brush past her shoulders.
To lovingly cradle her shape.
Never knew the softness of lips.
Then simply swept away
DEAR LEMON | advice on life & living
Sometimes life will get the better of you. It'll grab you by the scalp
and grind your face into the mud.
The earth has a sweet taste.
It sticks to your teeth and feels like chalk in your mouth.
You couldn't forget it if you tried.
Later, when those wounds have long-since healed, you'll pause
and with both hands scoop up soil from the ground and bring it
to your nostrils. You'll breathe deep and for a brief moment
know your place in the universe and also the joy
of your very existence.
DEAR LEMON | solstice moon
Today was my birthday
and tonight I looked up at a full solstice moon.
It was a delightful show
the way that its glow illuminated the clouds passing by
and even the streets and houses.
When I was a small boy, my mother and I
would talk to the moon.
We’d say ‘hello, Mr. Moon!’
So tonight I stood on the lawn, on my birthday
and found myself captivated again
but less by the moon and more
by you, Lemon.
I saw your face in its glow
even though I’ve not yet seen it
and I dreamt of when you and I would stand
out in the chilly evening air
with our heads tilted back
and a smile in our hearts
Dear Lemon // Dec. 21, 2018
DEAR LEMON | goodbye parenthood
I’ve never wondered so much
about the difference between
‘see you later’
I’m not saying that I’m going to embark
on the next great spiritual journey
or that I think there are any answers at all
that would bring any kind of peace.
I’m just saying
that I miss you.
I’m a father now
and my wife is a mother
and I see your hair bouncing in the sun
when I close my eyes.
I don’t know your face
but I know that it is sweet
and I know that there is a big, empty space
were the joys of parenthood would live.
I am a father
but am I still a parent?
Dear Lemon // Feb. 13, 2019