Ignored

If I’m to be ignored, I’ll do it well
I’ll wear the clothes you bought me when you cared
And as you fail to notice me in hell
My comfort will be cold, but well prepared

If I’m to be ignored by whom I love
I’ll sing a song of love, more lovely yet
Than all the songs you sang to me, my dove
If I’m to be ignored without regret

I’ll polish brightly, all my hoops of steel
They never break; they never even bend
I’ll wear my lover’s chain to show I feel
And hold my head up high for you, my friend

If I’m to be ignored, I’ll do it well
With hoops of steel and pretty clothes, in hell.

Difficult Run

I hear your absence, silent as the trail
between the sticks of barren winter trees.
They long to be remembered, to avail
themselves of verdant, peaceful reveries
when I can hear you running by my side,
across the bridge of demarcated space
which spans a summer’s brooklet, stride for stride
we run together.  Nothing will replace
the metaphor of you when I can feel
the failure of my strength; you are my heart.
It’s difficult to run, almost surreal
to move at all when we are miles apart.
I feel your presence, softly as a dream
each time I cross some difficulty’s stream.

for Mari