Confidence

A red-feathered,
black-chested bird
stands poised on a
pale-yellow picket fence.

Rain beats the
earth senseless.

The bird remains
poised: puffing
its chest, arching
its back.

2 Boys on a Stoop

Hormones
brought them
here: to fatherhood.
…too young to drink, or
go to college,
or vote…
both their present-
day & their futures 
scream from the
playpen beside them:
unhappy, unsatisfied, and
unfulfilled…
they sit & listen, unsure
how to answer the call…

 

Under the Stage Lights

I can’t breathe!
Some vine has snaked its way
up my throat from my belly below;
it lays heavy on my tongue.

I’ve been here before:
abandoned by Confidence
in a last-minute ambush.
My heart punches mercilessly.
I fear it will break through, and flop,
like a fish, on the wooden floor.
My trembling hands clench together for
comfort, but find none.

At last I open my mouth to speak.
Out falls dead leaves.
The wobble in my voice is not vibrato;
nothing operatic unfolds.
...

I will try again tomorrow

Sunday Morning, After My New York Recital

Drenched—yet again— in failure
I rise from the ashes in holy strength
White, and red with determination
to untangle the beauty inside me.
I arise to be a Me I don’t yet hear or see.