A BIRD WITHOUT WINGS

A Bird Without Wings

springs are dry
in a forest
a bird with broken
wings cannot fly –

a scanty path to
follow – to reach
a brook without
stones

stones –
tossed my way

we keep our
distance short –
like the bird
who cannot fly,
who cannot reach

a place of security
or touch wings
fluttering as a
mother feeds
beak to beak

as an empty
spring –
our lips remain
dry –
our lips are
not moist from
each others
touch

as a bird who
once flew
now wallows
on moist
hollow ground
hope is gone

for one
who gathered
stones - emptied
brooks where
children use to
step –

each stone
tossed -
gathered
to build a wall –

a wall - you will
never climb
you are a bird
without wings

Nancy Duci Denofio

LOVE DISSOLVES

LOVE DISSOLVES

those words we heard together
from a stranger – stayed near
for such a short time -
I thought it would have changed
you – I believed power from
beyond would have opened up
a force you never felt –

but – I was wrong

why I worry more then you?
why I beg for your lips?
why I ask for a little time?

my reasons are now fading
I was wrong - to wonder

those words we heard together
meant so much for so little
time – if I had a string to
tie you – to have you listen
to them one more time –

it would not have made you
different – your words were
always right -

but, I was always wrong

you walk through time as a
stranger
you ignore me like a pestering
insect
you shake your head and agree

but, then you say you don’t
recall why?

my reasons are now fading
as those words from a stranger
I did believe you listened

but, I was wrong

turn away – for I am not looking
turn away – for I am not hearing
turn away – because I can see
a statue passing by –

you were once the best wine on
my lips
you were the best cluster of grapes
to make – wine
your were the best taste when we
kissed

I see how love dissolves

I am the last grape on your vine

Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved

The Carnival

THE CARNIVAL

At the fire station –
cotton candy, caramel apples,
and the merry-go-round,
but I knelt near a window
a shade half blocking my view.
I heard music from the
merry-go-round,
same song, and
same horses.
same people from
our village standing in line.

I leave the porch to
sit on worn steps, chipped
paint catches cotton.
I stretch my legs to kick some
stones, and scuff my shoe’s.

You are not here to yell,
you are not here to watch
me cross a street,
you are not here to hold me
when the horse moves up and
down.

You are not here to hug me.

A small road crosses in front
of the old porch where cars
park near weeds, near grave
markers, those dead from the
village.
I wonder if you too can hear
the music?
I wonder if you too can see
flashing lights?

You are not here to keep my
hand warm, but next to all those
parked cars, you are still there,
still riding the merry-go-round
at the carnival. . .
but, you forgot to say good-bye.

Nancy Duci Denofio
published June 2010
by Dystenium
pages 14 - 15