I Promise (23 August 2010)

(for a.)

Your prince is waiting somewhere:
in a library,
or behind a Starbucks counter.
For your sake, I hope he is
humming something from "Les Miz."
I hope he is like Dad,
and plays the guitar.
I know already how he smiles at you:
tenderly, holding your image
like a Faberge egg.
I can see how quick he is to take your
hand oh why
can't you see it?

Still,

he is there, waiting for you.
He is reading a Neil Gaiman novel
at the Starbucks by your house.

As for the villain who stole your smile,
locked it in the basement with
the rest of the booty
(to be forgotten),
one day you will smile at him
with triumphant pity.

AfterLife (5 September 2008)

It is my hope
that the afterlife
not be splendid.
I do not wish for glory,
choruses, or colors.
Only a cup of tea,
and beautiful music playing
softly, in another room.
I hope there are not
too many people:
my husband, perhaps.
He will read the paper, silently.
I will sip my tea,
and look out the window,
where someone else’s glory
revels on the horizon,
somewhere far from me.