futile

it appeared that there were

dead cranes on the side of the road

their graceful necks draped over the curb,

beautiful yet useless

much like our forgotten conversations

it all makes sense now, since I no

longer recognize my

laugh from the photographs

thrown all over the floor

tiptoe around them like a

doomed choreographed ballet,

beautiful yet useless

memory

little white buildings on my right, as I

make the ground ache when I walk.

earth hard, unlike weeks before when

life sprouted up towards the sun.

barren forked trees on my left,

as pale gray clouds leave me

breathless for a moment cause

the air hurts to breathe.

silence, as I go past the frozen mess

that was left before me as I begin my

waiting for the world to act alive again.

play

those red butterflies take me back to the time when

those annoying crickets lulled me to sleep

dreamt I was barefoot on the gravel

running to that abandoned church

where those lost souls would be baptized

stood up high to pretend to speak

but I knew I wasn’t worthy

running back to the little, green house

the gravel biting at my soles

I whimpered and looked back –

you ran and didn’t even feel the rocks

you came laughing back,

your feet untouched