Nothing turns me on:
no small shell, no warm breeze;
appeased not by sizzling stars
vanishing skies

ho hum calculations
water equals electricity
water falls
through my body

I can hear the conch-sound,
torrid undercurrents,
conversations;

the swollen past rips through bank
debt to my body,
host to the river of
life takes
money, friends, as leaves
fall
to compost
~

We were in trouble
again
the ex:
a hip hop hoopster
a crust of ice
thawed and refrozen
my heart
won't
knowingly stop
or start
again for a man.

Perhaps for the moon,

although
today

I stood under the
fragrant apple tree
and remembered
innocence
and happiness
green and round and
for a minute,
minutes mattered
in the right kind of way.