Mirrors Of Winter
Under a dark moon
on an empty road I run
past my frozen breath.
Thinking of her in
delicate nightwear
cheaply bought yet
worth a revealing
fortune when she wore it.
Were we anything more
than a blur of circumstance?
Brought on by trays of
drinks served and emptied
truncated clips of film repeating.
I run past the park of rusty
locked gates, abandoned
as any hope we had at the end.
New tears freeze scarlet
cheeks to a savage burn.
Insane to run when its eight
degrees at 1 am, but I must
move forward I tell myself.
Until finally home to wonder
in an endless hall of mirrors
cracked in the reflected truth
of all my past mistakes.
Colder Than The Coffee
After
A brief dalliance
a few days
lasting too long…
We meet
a second & final time.
She said her coffees
getting cold
before adding-
say what you must
no louder than a whisper
I have friends here &
It won’t change anything.
But she doesn’t let
me speak…
There was no going
beyond us being
a footnote with
every inch a lie.
Undone by words
over politics
calling her mad king
a fascist fool, undid us.
Despite sex I thought splendid.
At this outdoor
cafe with a fine view
of the beach she continues
to talk. Calls me politically
immature and leftist crazy
while I think of the sex.
This is pointless I say
as she shifts to the border
to illegals and Ice.
.
I look up
almost certain
yesterday’s clouds
have vanished.
Replaced by impostors
formless as our future
that lasted two evenings.
Undone by the truths of naked polemics
that unlike our bodies-refused to meet.
Winter Frost
It takes half
lost innocent hours
after midnight
but the city
quiets some…
When I go for late walks
my tall shadow’s
lack of jewels and my clothes
many hands past second
on most days, keep
predators a broken
two step dance
multiplied
away.
But tonight
I see a face
grim as an ambulance
time betrayed, just
as late for the
dance with
fortune, slowly
step out of shadows.
Outline of a knife
I see, begin to run.
He tries but can’t
touch my hours
in the gym.
I leave him in the dust
like life has and
keep running past
the exits where
stop signs lie
you’re getting anywhere.
I keep running
In a cold sweat
this worst of
a fierce winter
can’t stop.
Closer To Distance
This failure of closeness you claim we have
issues of displacement that all manifest
when you say commitment or likewise words.
That infer or swallow whole both our paths
divergent in chaos yet somehow blessed
to last and linger past all truths left blurred.
But I’m at a loss when you ask out loud
if we’re adults or sharing its pretense
not to answer questions, time will address.
Marriage or children, a house, or allow
ourselves a plan to dare the consequence
of a joined future sacred vows may bless.
I’m 40 you say, no longer a kid
I nod, say nothing that you won’t forgive.
Rp Verlaine lives in New York City. He has an MFA in creative writing from City College. He taught in New York Public schools for many years. His first volume of poetry- Damaged by Dames& Drinking was published in 2017 and another – Femme Fatales, Movie Starlets & Rockers in 2018. A set of three e-books titled Lies From The Autobiography vol 1-3 were published from2018 to 2020. His most recent book, Imagined Indecencies, was published in February of 2022A new volume will be published in spring of 2026.