say it isn’t so
because if it is
I will have to
rearrange
all my expectations
for tomorrow
other writing
fool that I am: for L
a voice
not my own
but suspiciously like yours
keeps waking me
at all hours
depriving me of sleep
whispering things
I haven’t heard
in many years
and fool that I am
I believe
and don’t believe
every single word
this night
the whirling
of a fan
the hiss
of a candle
the beating
of a heart
this world
familiar
changed
a corner
turned
a light
in a window
not noticed
before
a footstep
on gravel
a scent
in the air
even the cat
senses shifting
this night
the surprise: for the rabbit Zaychik
didn’t expect it
was not prepared
but 4 hours later
was enchanted
no rap
no horror films
the cat stays
lots of fish
a bottle of wine
coffee and cheese cake
and the scooter
there you go
in baseball jargon
a homerun
what a surprise
first time up
at bat
the promise
in the glint
of your eyes
the hint
of a smile
on those full lips
one hand caressing
your hair
the other firmly placed
on a hip
the tilt of your shoulders
almost a shrug
there
here
the promise
of things to come
waiting for the sun
5am
candle melted down
wine glass empty
the cat curled up
on the back
of the chair
the ceiling fan turns
disturbing air
but not the silence
that hangs there
waiting for the sun
to show its face
so the day can begin
once again
the letter
I did not expect
the honesty within
a heart open
a promise
in the picture
of your eyes
so soon
too soon
for an old heart
grown weary
these many years
from home
the moon looks down
not alone
as long as the moon
looks down
on you
on me
though far apart
as I look up
your eyes too
are there
summer shower
unexpected
but welcome
a wet head
and shirt
an easy trade
for relief
from heat and sun
and then memory
comes intruding
a summer shower
thousands of years ago
your hair waist length
dripping on my chest
the white of your teeth
the green of your eyes
the touch of a hand
skin on skin
as rain beat down
on a tin roof
a trailer in Ohio
the sound of corn
serenading in the wind
and sleep
when it came
never felt so good
again
crossing the Bosphorus
amid the cries
for cay tost
an accordion
playing a Strauss waltz
such is life
crossing the Bosphorus
on a Thursday afternoon
Leonard Durso 