Perfectly flaw-filled

Your pistachio eyes
are sometimes weary
and broken.
Your tongue is
sometimes biting,
carrying a scorpion's
sting.
Your hands
are sometimes not
soft and young
as I once remember.
But your heart
is always open.
Your flaws are what
render you
perfect...
And what would
this life
be without you?
This is a mystery
I wish to
remain forever unsolved.

Copyright © Catherine Young, 2008

A New Friend

I wish I had a
friend named
Julio
so that I could
correct people
who
improperly pronounced
the name with a
Hard J
rather than the
Soft H

(and also)

Julio sounds like
the name of a person
who could
really handle his drink
and I
am up for that
challenge

Copyright © Catherine Young, 2008.

Six Months

six months is a finite
infinity
in this mind
but I want to suck the
endlessness in
tasting its seconds
and minutes and days
letting each moment
wash over me
immersing my soul
only in thoughts of you
to quench the passing time
and ease my waiting

Copyright © Catherine Young, 2008

October Sky

Yellow dashed lines blur into one
solid and slithering serpent
unwinding in front of me with a speed
and an efficiency
I can't quite comprehend
- unwinding how
- unwinding where
I don't know.
Foot heavy pedal pressure
lean in
lean in
and skuttle across the moraine's trees
red and orange and yellow and brown
and some
an indignant green.
The sky above them
menacing and a million shades of grey
- in the brisk October wind it moves
and moves
and draws me in
encapsulated by the
chagrin and overwhelming
sadness
weighing down on my chest.
My glass pane headache beats
to some old
Neil Young song
about the Southern man, as
the wistfulness
of this October sky
grazes my cheek with
its deft palm,
and I fall under the spell again
of the dashed yellow lines
cavalier
against the black tar road
- unwinding how
- unwinding where
I don't know.

Copyright © Catherine Young, 2007.

Simple Math

GAH! So little writing done lately....so little motivation! Meh....

Simple Math

I am composed of 1/5
truth and
conviction,
and 4/5 confusion and
coffee.

Copyright © Catherine Young, 2007.

Thunderstorm Eyes

His eyes are storm clouds
darkening
with the passing seconds
She doesn't want to count.
Eyes
waiting to unleash
their fury
upon her
face
arms
chest.
His eyes -
his thunderstorm eyes
are more him than he'd
like to believe
and he rains
he rains
he rains down upon her.
Filling, brimming
the eye-clouds
stagger and devastate
with no visible
silver lining.
His eyes -
his thunderstorm eyes
are more him than he'd
like to believe
and he reigns
he reigns
he reigns over her.

Copyright © Catherine Young, 2007

Marble bench

marble bench
cooled by the night air
quiet and alone
you feel nothing
for you've been
forged from stone
but I can feel
and am chilled
to the bone.

Copyright © Catherine Young, 2007