Love's Surgery

My lover
turned away from me
and slept
leaving the scalpel
silently dissecting
my heart.

Old Wounds

The spoil of life and time
Erased your face, your flame,
The body's feel, the chime
of voice, even your name

Would take a dredge of memory
To resurge. And yet the blaze
Of our insanity
Can, at this distance, raise

A half-forgotten strand,
A sensual silken fichu,
A half-remembered hand
Upon the heart's scar tissue.

I feel the knife that flensed
And flayed and left me crying.
I tense again against
That ancient dying.