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Calme-toi,
ma biche, ma biche.
Be still,
my doe.

Resign.
That’s all you have to do:
lie back; endure.

The blood –
don’t let it frighten you.
There is no need.

That’s right:
your blood knows how to flow
and how to stop.

The sick --
yes, sometimes we reject.
But that will pass.

The tears –
you feel them shatter. But
you are still whole.

Calme-toi,
ma biche, ma biche.
Be still,
my doe.

Roel

So, this is how
the morning light explodes:
there is no color
like that light
when it glances
on your forearm
as you wake.

Girl at the Head of the Stairs

Sun through the stair window.
The girl’s long hair --
not brown,
not red,
a young color.

Blue jeans;
a scoop-necked top,
dark rose;
face raised to the beams;
a flawless throat.

He looks at her, enjoys.
She notices.
But that is all:
they are both
satisfied.

Kitten and Branches

Kitten upset the
pussywillow. Frightened: first
the crash, then scolding.