Tomorrow

She touched the sky - felt a lingering sigh
shy away; like a nomadic moon

In a book of notes, she stumbles on casual
words; truth penetrates her, slices like a blade,
tongue tied threads. The moon sighs
and hides behind the clouds - moments slip,
like tides, quietly away.

Salt burns a flurry of stars in dilated eyes
where no fire wall could protect her from
the unlit face of tomorrow

Deborah Russell, © 2000

Each Day

My heart shivers in the rain -
only thoughts of you throw off
the chill; your ink is a blanket
and I wrap myself in your words.
The photograph, you gave me,
melted like wax - like Johns’
afterimages - seeing you
everywhere:
on my pillow at night
in my dreams… each day,
scenes rushing me,
like morning coffee.
You fill my cup; I breathe the
rich aromas - tasting love,
freshly made each day…

Deborah Russell, © 2001