Monday, April 19, 2010

They sit on their respective ice floes,

tethered to each other
by a rope bridge grown tattered
and strained,
but still hoping to remain in
touching distance,
never wanting to drift apart,
and face
the unseeable currents
on their own.
They know that they will never live
on each other's tiny islands,
but they will keep the rope bridge mended,
even if the reason they do so
will forever remain hidden from their view.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

He is forced to stay

because an abrupt departure
would be considered impolite,
bad form,
even hurtful
(in private ways)
to some of the onlookers.
So he stays,
frozen in amber
like a prehistoric insect,
mutedly visible,
accessible only to
the roughest of tools,
and destined to be a museum exhibit
of passing interest only.