Happiness is Lucky

                “Happiness is thus lucky.”
                Robert Creeley

                “I don’t want to think about sadness;
                there’s never a lack of it.”
                Peter Everwine

The morning air
         When you
paints the sky
         tiptoe to bed

with a blue that
        late tonight,
red and green cannot mix.
        your neck

        smells of another
        man’s cologne.

        What is it that
your body turns
        you want but I lack ?

in bed
        Big hands,
every five minutes –
        slick tricks,

as if a storm
        or a dumb
is whirling within.
        sad smile?


When we first met,
        This morning,
you looked like a dahlia,
        I woke up by myself,

a lotus, or an orchid,
        finding myself
a new breed, growing
        next to myself.

in a green house.
        I opened the fridge
A flower riot.
        and found our happiness

When we first met,
        had expired.
I lost my language,
        I also found

because every flower
        you cutting roses
could be a notion of you.
        in our weed yard.


You seated me at the table,
and decorously brought
        like an owl,

me your home-baked pie. I put
        you always thought
a bit in my mouth. It tasted
        I had an inner self,

familiar. Of course, you’re
        a self lurking
eating your own heart,
        beneath the skin,

you said. Then, I found my chest
hollow, rib cage broken,
        from daylight.

blood gushing down my
        In your pie,
legs. I looked into your eyes,
        salted and buttered,

and finished the pie,
        there was no me.
and walked
        Tonight, I proved you

away from you
        wrong, with my heart
        missing and regained.