I remember once believing my heart would absolutely break in two, and somehow, for some reason, I picked up a book by a poet a friend had recommended, read a poem that just seemed to leap at me off the page, and it irrevocably changed my life forever more, for the better. I knew almost immediately this change had taken place, so I contacted the friend who had recommended the poet to tell her how grateful I was she had pointed me in that poet's direction and she said, in a most surprised voice, "Really? The only reason I mentioned her was because when I read her poetry it reminded me so much of yours. What you're saying hers did for you is what your poetry does for me." I pray YOU BECKON brings you that kind of life changing peace and joy. A Few Excerpts:

All that Really Matters
I might have stayed there
engaged in the process,
caught up in the cycle,
needing us to be,
being what you needed
but never being needed by you.
I might have made demands
that elicited half-hearted promises
that echoed in the chamber of
insincerity because in reality
there was never an us,
only a you, only a me, and a process that made us want
there to be something we shared
that was more tangible than just the same name.
I might have reasoned longer
had I not been twenty-one
and positive it wasn’t meant to be so hard,
and that the only word that really mattered
in the English language was “next.”

LONG DIVISION
And then there is love,
the calculus of human emotion
an absolute divisible
only by itself.


FIRST RECITAL
She pulled the sash tight, the organza bow
perfect, my petticoats stiff, ego
inflated enough to face the music.

Fingers, not yet long enough to add elegance
to sound, hunt with precision,
echoing the road map in my mind's ear
as I play a remarkable Flight of the Bumble-bee.

Second row, third seat left
she sits next to Dad,
hands clutched against her breast
praying me through.

I bow instead of curtsey
though we've drilled for days.
She cries instead of cheers
reminded of the countdown
between us that has already
begun.