Sliver of Time Moon Lovers Blank

Sliver of Time

STEPHEN SCHWEI

Acorns are gone, swept away. People in graves marked for the 1800s had no idea what the 21st century would be like. And I’ll never see the 23rd or 89th or anything on the horizon. But the sky is still trembling blue, exasperatingly blue and trees line the roads like they very well might have even in that time.

This doesn’t feel like an 1800s cemetery. It’s carved out of the city and could remain a secret source of boiling over blue skies and mating butterflies, masking and elongating time. I’m here for only the faintest sliver of time, while thoughts and ideas and comforting blue skies traverse the eons.

Moon Lovers

STEPHEN SCHWEI

Why did I ever tie my lover to the moon? Entangle him in all its phases. Now its ascendency is his face, its slow rise his and my history.

Just a sliver in a cloudless sky as we began with tender hopes. A thousand triggers on a thousand nights. Promises of celestial guidance.

As it slumped on its back lazily, we grew comfortable and in love. Growing and brightening each night towards the full moon in all its glory.

We struggled with distance and separation musing if we saw the same moon as our gaze fell upon it in unison from two different earthly continents.

Some clouds, some clear nights, it cycled many times before we faded. He escaped its snares, and embarked on a new journey.

The bright moon remains painted with his smile and my tears. All I want now is for the forever moon to return to its still beauty.

Stephen Schwei is a Houston poet with Wisconsin roots, published in Wax Poetry & Art, Beneath the Rainbow, Hidden Constellation, Borfski Press, and New Reader Magazine. A gay man with three grown children and four wonderful grandchildren, who worked in Information Technology most of his life, he can be a mass of contradictions. Poetry helps to sort all of this out. www.stephenschwei.com

Blank

STEPHEN SCHWEI

I

As you stare at me without recognition, shape, or meaning, I wonder where you have gone –a fanciful flight? Or a formless reverie? Somewhere you’ve visited before, or an unfamiliar land each time?

So far, I’ve escaped the pain and vicissitudes, the ignominious episodes and lowlights. My memory still captures you in the highlights. We still live together, side by side.

II

My decline began long ago. My memories are blacklisted, banned. I can’t find them anymore. I didn’t know, I still don’t know, there’s an expiration date on our life memories.

If you see a glimmer, pretend it’s recognition. I want to be with you, but I’m drifting, out of control. Don’t blame me. I didn’t leave you. I hate to blame my brain. I know you do.

III

It’s good to have you with me, if you’re there.