The Secret Writing Place

This is where I write many of my poems.  Inspiring view, huh?

The Judge Shrugged

The courtroom was set up

so that I had to sit next 

to him.

We didn't make eye contact,

but we’d already traded intimacies 

of a sort,

what with me 

hate-fucking the hell out of 

his slutty stalker wife,

and him threatening to shoot me

because she mislead him 

and told him it was rape.

Before the judge granted

the restraining order, he said

“I've read the details of this case,

Mr. Amberg have you apologized

to Mr. Moskowitz?”

and he said he had

because it was true.

The Judge continued:

“And Mr. Moskowitz, 

have you apologized 

to Mr. Amberg?”

In a voice, 

confused but unequivocal,

I said 

“No, I haven’t”

because that was true too.

The judge shrugged,

thought for a moment 

and granted my restraining order.

I left the courtroom,

feeling relieved,

vindicated and safe,

but not innocent.

[From the #thisreallyhappened files - Written for #openlinknight for www.dversepoets.com - come over and get your poetry fix.]

Empty Dates

 A year passes
and there are empty dates
on the calendar
where birthdays,
holidays
and other milestones
belonged.

Families are owed
memories and dreams,
and everything that wasn't
given away to charity
or tucked quietly
into an abandoned toy box,
is  arrayed into a makeshift
altar,
a reminder of the shock
and random cruelty
of this loss.

Inside the
still-unwrapped
Christmas present,
a smiling, pink plush pig
has been waiting
since last year
for an embrace
and a smile
that will never come.

[Written for #newtown and posted for #openlinknight @dversepoets - with love and sadness.]

My Luxury

My luxury,
though simple,
was my luxury
when I was 10,
and is still
my luxury
today:

to sit in
a darkened room
by an open window,
a slight chill
in the wind,
looking up at
the stars,

curled up,
listening
to a small,
faraway radio station
and following
wherever
the dream music
took me.

[Written for #OpenLinkNight at www.dversepoets.com - an artistic oasis in the desert what be the internet.]