(finishing the last)

finishing the last
glass of eggnog with the last
book of the year

In the Company of Angels

I keep the photo in a box,

the box that my grandmother

gave me one Christmas,

the box that holds a single

glass angel ornament with golden trim.

I tuck the picture

underneath the angel

for safe keeping.

The photograph captures

the Christmas that you

spent with us 18 years ago

in Nashville.

This is the first Christmas

that Grand is no longer with us,

and the first Christmas 

that the two of you,

complete strangers,

will somehow keep each other

company.

Teatime

every sip
every drip
a present
to yourself

watch it steep
inhale deep
stealing moments
for yourself

black, green, white
pure delight
with a friend or
by yourself

Thanksgiving Traffic

Three miles in an
hour and a half --
bumper-to-bumper
interstate congestion and
stomach indigestion,
angry drivers with
hungry kids, no
exit in sight, and
no explanation.
Arrivals delayed;
hugs and hand-
shakes on hold;
dinners postponed.
It was easy to get
irritated and impatient,
until we saw
the white sheet
on the ground.
Suddenly, we were
thankful for the
fume-filled air that
we were breathing.

Ginger Ale at Grandma’s

When I drink ginger ale,

I think of my grandmother,

who always had ginger ale,

White Zinfandel and leftovers

in the fridge at her house --

the house with the 

bamboo in the backyard

and the pool table in the basement,

the house with the fireplace

and long reach matches in the living room,

and the bedrooms that my father and uncles

grew up in upstairs.

When I drink ginger ale,

 I remember her contagious cackle

and raise my glass to Grand.

morning tea

like the allegiance of a faithful friend

like the familiar hand of a lover

like the loyalty of a family pet

(The tree bark gleamed)

The tree bark gleamed
with fresh raindrops as
the squirrel scurried home.

Summer Simplicity

As summer begins to
close her eyes in
exchange for fall's
awakening, I want
to remember these
days; what it feels
like to slip into
sandals, and hop into
the car without a
jacket and drive to
meet some friends
with Tennessee's green
hills in front of me and
the sun on my back.

(fresh tomato slice)

fresh tomato slice
memories from my childhood
a summer garden

(Marriage is)

Marriage is
telling each other
what to do with our sores.

Co-written by Rebecca Davenport

Poem Published in PRIDE Guide

I was very pleased to learn that my poem "My One Wild and Precious Life" was recently selected to appear in this year's Holland PRIDE Guide.  Take a look at my piece on page 13, as well as poems by my fellow poetry contest winners throughout the program!

(a cardinal and a bluebird)

a cardinal and a bluebird
sitting on a white fence
suddenly feeling patriotic

(In my mind, you will)

In my mind, you will
always be 45, strong,
capable and kind.

Thieves of the Temple

My afternoon walk
was interrupted by
a vicious scene --
two black turkey vultures,
two agents of death,
two dark figures
hunched and hovering over
an innocent squirrel
in the middle of the road,
devouring every bit of life,
shredding every fiber of flesh,
mutilating every scrap of dignity,
annihilating every piece of providence,
poking and prying and picking and
pecking and plucking and probing
until the body was nothing but a hollow carcass,
just like my parents do to me.

(summertime snow)

summertime snow
cottonwood seeds
float, flit and blow

(Golden:)

Golden:
A grandmother's love,
like the arms of the sun

(After the funeral)

After the funeral
I searched my inbox
for any messages I still had from her.

(Outside my window)

Outside my window
a bluebird convention in
full swing, wing to wing

(a fine Sunday morning flapjack breakfast)

a fine Sunday morning flapjack breakfast

including one, petite pancake

for the pup

The Life Span of Love

from having butterflies
to sharing houseflies
to watching fireflies in our twilight

One Fine Day

Note: I wrote this on Martin Luther King Jr. Day in 2013 -- a triply historic holiday.

On MLK Day,
inauguration day,
on the day
that a gay
Cuban-American poet
read a poem
to America,
I am moved
to tears
in the sunlight
of my study,
thankful
for the sunshine,
my books, and
the partner
our dog, cat and I
await, who will
join us after work
on this fine day.

Some Things

Some things
silence the
professional speaker.
Some things
stump the
international intellectual.
Some things
paralyze the
confident wordsmith.
Some things...