Lenny

It is the first time
I have let him in

and in doing so,
can't let him go.

I saw him, first,
in my mind,

a simple angry man;
a criminal, a genius,

an emperor waiting
to be crowned;

found his tics,
his quirks, his charm,

his beauty, and set
them against her

and raged. Now
I can't let him go

Now he remains
with me, though

the melancholy
of loss invades

like gallons
of water dumped

into an empty
fish tank.

I will find him
among the small

stones someday
and tap on the glass

and the echo
among the deaf water

will wake him
like a zoo beast

entertaining a visitor.

Language is a Knife

Language is a knife
and we use it

sparingly, cutting small circles
in the thin curtain
hanging between us,

to reach small treasures
through and coax one another
into bed.