10-19-06 (last winter)

when my feet felt so cold,
I tried on your slippers.
my toes tried to touch
each curve in the sole.

your house smelled like hot tea,
compost, and baking,
like books in the basement:
ink mixed with mold.

I'm sorry for trying to fit
in your slippers.
I'm sorry for trying
your warmth for my cold.

I left them behind
just how you first left them,
empty but knowing
your imprints would hold.

............radicle..........................................................................
...nothing but a chance................................................................
.anchored in shifting soil.............................................................
...the seed starts to peek..............................................................
.....past itself, to seek..................................................................
.....out a stronger grip................................................................
.......like a raw nerve..................................................................
.........the first root:....................................................................
.............radicle..........................................................................

your fall

2:30 in the morning
and your face keeps sneaking
into my sleep.
It's getting colder now
and the trees start to mimic
death, bare branches
and creaking limbs
testing their roots.

I used to visit you
in your hospital room.
I'd sit and stare at your
end-of-autumn frame
and beg you to bloom again.

one good thing about winter

in the winter
just like in the fall
I will come home
to find you
leaning back in my
video game chair
maybe watching t.v.
maybe playing your guitar
maybe with your eyes shut
but waiting
just like in the fall
for when I come home
and it is time for our nap.