Tanka

your young face 

my point of departure,

the line

I follow down

almost to regret

laying time 

on your body, motionless

in sleep

I'm always happy to wake

you, my present

late wintery day… 

your whining 

doesn’t sound like you

but like a voice

living inside other voices

I mold you             

but you choose your own dream,

then shatter . . .

if we only knew

the answer

I am torn                              

between you and your eyes.

A monologue:

Does one divided by nothing

equal infinity? 

Published in Aha Anthology, 2012