Category: Secular Verse
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Coin Purse
Like telling the rosary it was your daily rite You always explained though there was no need Quarters go in first (for the full moon) then nickels then dimes (it wanes and wanes) pennies last of all (their copper sheen is the new moon rusting away) This done you would shake it exactly three times…
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Fallout
so gently it comes so gently it comes bringing winter no matter the season in the night it poaches hair in the night it poaches nails leaves behind a barren beauty livid kisses pickled skin if our bones were light enough like the hawk we’d soar to meet it even share a dance or two…
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Sunday Night
we fret ourselves to ashen little nubs talking of the week to come of the Sisyphus-grind the lampreys of obligation of five days nearer death over it all hangs a curious pleasure: rain awaited on a sweltering day thus our delay- ing the inevitable touch the skin-to-skin friction the cloudburst when it is done we…
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In Tandem
If love is a candle flame hate is the shadow it casts on the wall. A weak flicker of desire elicits mere indifference. A blaze, though – a blaze limns everything in black. And as the one inexorably brightens the other darkens, splitting the heart in half- my heart, toward you.
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The Rorschach Test
What do you see? A dragon. That means you are full of fire. What do you see? A mermaid. That means the ocean is calling. What do you see? An eagle. That means your head’s in the clouds. What do you see? A mountain. That means the earth weighs heavy. What do you see? My…
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Sea Pen
This poem was not written with a sea pen which is a shame No doubt it would flow more freely needing no meter except the ocean currents Held to the seabed by thin feet it would eat floating words and grow long long as a man’s forearm All other poems it would call bleached coral…
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In Hell
there are hollyhocks and gardenias and fences white and gently weathered concealing neighbors who whisper about your sagging jowls and the growing mole on your neck occasionally they knock steaming dishes of zucchini casserole in hand and compliment you on your bravery in the face of trial once the door shuts they go right back…
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Epitaph for a Greyhound
Instead of the end I will remember the sleek arc of your body spanning space like a barrel vault the neat join of tenon and mortise where legs met flanks the quick spurts of motion toward some prize known only to you the wet stare of faith you bestowed when called to heel Instead of…
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Lunar New Year
Moon, you have grown heavy with winter ice. We see you only through a sheen of frost. And your path across the night is a sluggard’s. How long until spring’s axehead breaks you free to sail again untrammeled the blue- black deeps?
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Guest
For hours the rain has been drumming and drumming on my welcome mat. If I could I’d gladly invite it in. For more than any woman or man it is welcome.
Thomas R. Keith Poetry 