Closure's Overrated

A siren whom you've despised

took it upon herself

to tell me of your

engagement today

going so far as to send photos

now burned into my corneas

for the plot, the reaction

the proof that mankind

is cruel by nature

despite my hardest protest.

There in the background

across the river

that's been my only home

lay the mountain 

we tried to move

and its foothills 

in which we lived for years--

the perfect backdrop

for what you left 

twice, without warning.

I'm still there

behind a tree limb

outshined by your innocent grin

that's delighted by the thought

of children I would have given.

I can tell you this

without flinching

without wincing

without the aid of my gin:

I'm sorry I failed us

and I pray that he deserves you

every day.

Knock 'em Dead in the Photo Finish

It's been a year.

Too old for kids now

or to start over.

Apprentices'll have to do.

A Rubik's Cube;

the 9 of swords;

at 39

suddenly afraid of rainstorms

with headlights reflected.

Found snapshots depicting

the red sands of Bar Harbor

conduct recreational autopsies.

It's a town that doesn't forget.

None of us do, really.

It's been a year.