Concrete

Twenty, ten more pounds of iron tool
crush foreign rocks into jagged parts
and reveal sparkle flecks, just pretty enough
to tuck the pieces in my overall pocket

Connecting with your soccer form
I fall to the dust covered ground
where my knee becomes scarred rock
and then you’ve left on me your mark

Pushing and pulling one rock pile here
then dirt, then powdered mix on top
and we drag shovels through the mound
until it becomes thick drying mud

Then, the lines of gray across my face
bring a false strength to my being
for a weakness settled in my stomach
when your fingers first touched my cheek

We lean against a concrete slab and
sit on the stairs drinking fizzy fruit drinks
in this faraway town made of concrete
that’s where I first saw you, saw you

When we chipped away at the drought earth
the subtle changes reminded me so much
of the tiny phrases and terms we broke apart
on the descent to the concrete strip

Concrete is made of the rocks we broke
and the way you turn my solid words to powdered sounds
and the water from a rainy kiss
and the chemicals between us
and we toss it all together
we sink our shovels and twist
others sink in shovels and twist
then we sink in and twist

Our Second Kiss

It’s a moonlight miracle
I made it to my door
after turning the lock,
I sank to the floor.
I tried pacing but
my legs felt weak;
so I dialed Abbie
but I couldn’t speak.
Finally, my face
lit into a grin.
I turned to the sky
and asked Him, “Again?”