The Mediums: A Poem

The Mediums

It took a week for us to stop hearing the voices.
Although they had been our constant companions
for years by then, a steady stream of chatter,
it reached the point where they became unbearable.
Each message had become a death to us. Just a little
to start with, soft like the twitter of birds,
not too intrusive perhaps, but then more insistent
by the day, slowly overwhelming, until
our own voices, thoughts, were lost to theirs.

Eventually, it was us or them. They became

Earth Summit: A Poem

Earth Summit

All gifts are off: for this stolen spark of power
the world rebelled and asked for something back.
He cheated. Man enjoyed playing with fire
too much, thought little of him on his rock,
chained and consumed. The air grew hot and dark.

Conjunction: A Poem

Conjunction

We are not seen together during the day,
keeping our distance, as one must. We do

nothing we should not, at least since centuries back.
Such an alignment is best kept for the dark.

Closures: A Poem

Closures

The line’s a line but drawn oblique.
Each day gives barely half the space.
The blood is work. The flesh is weak.

Mere charm in touch is all technique.
Clear eyes recoil, for nowadays
the line’s a line but drawn oblique.