Eve Rounds

a poem about you for you (and you)

you are your own
though your temperament reminds me of him
your head is more
ripe mango
while his was more
soft plum
my love for you is wrapped in
the strangeness of patterns and rhymes
decadent meals and annual martinis
our spontaneous brush strokes
a good cackle cry on the screened in porch
confessions of tiny magnets
make you (and toni girl) my favorite

i don’t even know

how long it’s been.
haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar.
haven’t bothered to reread my own words.
haven’t been missing you any less.
haven’t been hurting any less.
less is more only in mutations and dreams.
obsessions of your absence spark from moment to moment.
you never saw my wedding dress. a surprise that never had the chance to brighten your eyes.
you don’t feel me growing as a mom. as a friend. learning to be fully both inspired by my own.
you won’t experience my degeneration. the only light. though it blinds.


the five senses

your blue eyes
and crooked lippy smile which i inherited
that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head
the white corvette
a campfire
cards shuffling
cards shuffling in flight
the sizzle of pungent food
your cough more habit than clearing of the throat
your hug
shrinking over time
but always encompassing
a campfire
carbs baking
fruit frying
your regular soap
your hidden indoor herb garden
your roses
gas and oil
good beer
bad beer
stolen blob of raw sourdough after rising but before baking
anything breakfast related
curry all colors all countries
dark chocolate
good beer
bad beer
missing you
missing you
missing you
missing you
missing you


what did falling in love

feel like

to you

actual falling

a new winter sweater

a blood flutter

did you question its science


were you just grateful to be wanted

what about

the difference between

the second time

and the first

actual falling

a warm sleeping bag

a blood flutter

what had you learned


did you blame age and circumstance




where did you find

the courage

for the second

the last




at the end


that your last

love loved you

in ways only 47 years can prove



the wind the waves

muffle and drown my memories


the wind the waves

magnify and amplify

the sound of your voice and clearing of your throat

your graceful hobble into a room full of us

sometimes i crave an interlude from this chasmic sorrow

sometimes i am incensed by the muted reflections

you were a fairly loud man

echoing off of everything

oh universe

give me just a few more seconds (no minutes no lifetimes)

of his noise




the theatre

this is 

a silent film



starting over

emptiness surrounding

such a blinding contrast ahead of us

shared stories 

captured images



we replay our favorite scenes

we replay our swift regrets

our future now heavy with vacancy. 


It isn’t easy being a twin.   Others considered us as one two-part person,  while our parents saw,  in our conspiring, four or more.  


dark morning darkness woke up crying i now embrace the word should. it’s a simple truth. my dad should be with me on my   

27 days ago

i lost you so suddenly too suddenly your blue eyes in a constant state of near tear because you loved life giving us so much

haiku ish

in this direction waves break to the right of me reversing my own current

.no . title .. here …

your ……. face against the bruised air between my quiet mind and the raging storm …. panic .. desire …….. pain and wishful logic slowly …