Two Poems

Dear Revolution,

you are as decisive as a thorn
        but as likely to bow your petals
                to the rain's will,     You seduced

every brooding boy at the party
        to join the chorus line.     You made
                our early death as appealing as a siren.

I know. I still remember your first kiss,
        when you whispered join me in my ear
                and a long romance with justice

blossomed at the main plaza,
        and the aroma of tear gas made our date
                unforgettable. I was a hero then,     I was your lover.

 

The Gift of Winter

Snowy days are the weather for reassessing,
the white ground invites the mind to forgive old hurts,

The ancient injury does not have much more to say,
speaking on deaf ears is like dancing on snow.

Having lived long under the ground, my friends'
graves are as quiet as their souls.

Every snowflake, so light, still carrying
its own terrible weight.