Notes to my Men

Mummery

You probably wish

You had known

Just how many masks

I own

Before we combined

Our lives.

Even though you

struggle

To find room

On the walls

For your own art;

You still manage

To love

Even the worst

And most offensive

Of my clutter.

You even make

me love

them too.

When Words Fail

I sometimes wish

I

were a painter

so I could strip

away

the layers

that have concealed you

for so many

years

and replace them

with a picture

that would

reflect

all that

I see

in you

Home

I

never

Had a home

I could

Call

My own.

Always al-

one

In my head.

And heart.

And body.

Trapped.

lost.

Floating.

To find a home with you

Has been a dream come true.