give me a daisy

stormy weather

Two poems about the sometimes rough weather of relationships, one written by my partner and the other written by me, before we knew each other.

weather man

I’m a storm center. Still,
Sun broke through, warming her
Now and again. Then I’d think,
She is bound to get used to
my weather.

Always, though, cloudbanks
Returned to us, scudding ashore
Like a black threat. We stood
At the seawall, screaming
into the wind.

She said it was nothing to her
If I wanted to waste my days
Gathering darkness, but
She needed light, craved
spaciousness, clarity.

She was tired of grayness
Clinging to edges, fogging
Our seasons. Winter forever:
Words freezing, losing their
power to move.

I told her
There’s nothing that changes
as fast as the weather.

“Not yours,” she said, turning
To stare out
the window.

She left unexpectedly. I was
Astounded; the day had been fine.
I ran where I thought she had gone to.
“Look! Look!” I shouted.

“The sun is shining! The sun
is shining!”

schism

Lightning struck
the room,
Illuminating
our sins,
splitting us
into separate pieces
and sending us
to different places:
You to purgatory
and me to hell,
although it may only be
a trick of the mind.

But then why
am I
still burning?

And why
do we speak
to each other
in foreign tongues?

I can’t hear you
over the howling
of the wind
and I wonder
if you can see
the rain
washing away
the traces.

If it rains
long enough,
will it put out
the fire
and bring me
back to earth?