Why does my wife not read my verse?

Screen Shot 2019-03-04 at 23.50.33

Why does my wife not read my verse?

She’s surely not averse

to phrase and lines she reads at work,

her daily dose of prose that lurks

on paper and email I’ve heard her curse.

Poetry, you scheming rat,

you promised you’d deliver

a feast-seducing habitat,

a song to make her quiver,

not a sour look, nor petty spat.

Oh, why does she not sneak a peek

to see what I have written

in Moleskine notebook fit to tweak?

At least she’d know what has me smitten

the day I dared to plumb the deep.

There’s much more depth in me

than fake illiteracy.

I’m a minor chord, a malady.

I’m a scribe in search of melody,

a cloud of nature’s ancestry.

May she not pass like a Pharisee

Only you


Only you

The weight of the raindrop that trickled
under my waterproof.

The shape of the arm of the snowflake that smashed into my left eye.

The arc of the rainbow that landed
on the dock of the Port of Cork.

The pixels of the iris by which I see
handwriting painted in my black Moleskine.

The taste of your nipple between my infant gums
the day we first met.

The pounding of your gait growing stronger in ears
listening to the “Mad World ” of Gary Jules.

Only you,

and you alone…