Green-gold sunlight seeps
through granite clouds, lightening
the gloom for a breath,
as when someone beautiful
appears at a a dull party,
and like the beauty who can’t
be bothered to stay,
then sneaks off again somewhere
as fat raindrops splash the curb
like champagne bubbles
against the side of a glass,
in preparation
for a maudlin toast.
Copyright 2018
T. Allen Culpepper
So fearless, the hawk
circling higher than I can
look without my head
swimming in a dizzy pool,
but he preys on what
he surveys, whereas
I can only try
to coexist and avoid
being preyed upon myself.
Copyright 2018
T. Allen Culpepper
A pink thumb thrust up
between the wrapped green fingers
of the tulip’s fist
will burst open and bleed flame
when the spring sun provokes it.
Copyright 2018
T. Allen Culpepper
Who came first doesn’t make much difference.
The more interesting question is who left first,
and when and how. Was it the one who cheated
and then regretted it, or the one who wanted to and didn’t?
The one who lingered too long at the gym to avoid home,
or the one who came in early and smoked weed
in front of the television? The one who fell asleep
on the sofa, or the one one who drank too much
alone on the back porch late at night when he
couldn’t sleep and there was no porn left to watch?
The one who finally walked out the door, or the one
who locked himself up inside? As far as the why,
that’s a pointless question too. They met, they
coupled, they separated, both, as a result,
a little better off, a little worse. Yellow roses
marked the beginning; red ones, the end.
Copyright 2018
T. Allen Culpepper
Drowsy from reading, I stretch out on the bed,
near, but not touching, the cat, who likes her space,
and various pasts and futures fill my head
with thoughts, some welcome, others hard to face.
The window, left partially open, admits the wind,
and riding it in, the melodies of birds–
song that trills above the dishwasher’s din;
the thoughts stir feelings too difficult for words.
The approach of spring always creates
unstable emotions that swirl around and collide:
the wish for freedom bound up with the need to mate;
new dreams mixed in with fear that something’s died.
My love craves exposure, but I’m wary,
even though you’re just imaginary..
Copyright 2018
T. Allen Culpepper
“You’ll kill me if you stop,” kill me if you go;
you’ll kill me either way, and so
please stay here with me in the moment
and let’s live and die together before
you leave me behind to die again alone.
Copyright 2018
T. Allen Culpepper
A tiny seed, black, hard,
soaked overnight in tears,
germinates, flourishes,
becomes a hearty vine
climbing fences in growth,
blossoms, then closes up,
its tendrils gripping hearts
until it strangles them.
Copyright 2018
T. Allen Culpepper
