Thoughts from a boat in the Caribbean Sea

Joe never made it home last
night. He hasn't been home
since, for twenty years.

It is I who has been sent to
get him and bring him
home. That was nearly
twenty years ago.

"Life is messy," he
said. So he felt he had
to clean it up. He felt
he had to make it
straight.

This Morning

Her hands washed over me this morning
Her legs enveloped my heart

There is no cold where she lays
The heat of heart warms the flesh

I do not rise this morning to
the work that lay ahead.
I stay right beside her
in our tight little bed.