TRANSVESTITE

What lurks behind his eyes?

Seems to me like a woman’s pain –

The burden of carrying lifelong lies

Amid an urge to live again.

His eyes were once so full of life –

He had family, friends, a thousand dreams;

But now, in this time of strife,

Nobody seems to hear his screams.

So what if he’s a transvestite?

Why should it be so disgusting?

They seem so irked by his delight

And turn chiding eyes upon him.

Life’s been unbearable, of late –

They turn away from him in hate.

With an utterly unabashed lack of feeling,

They engage in petty mud-slinging.

No one tries to cool his sighs

Or cares enough to look into his eyes.

A long, lone path awaits him

Powdered with ashes of departed dreams.

 

A TALE OF THE TOWN

NIGHT MOVES
NIGHT MOVES

A vibrant darkness

Descends, ruffling

The rigid silence.

A siren wails somewhere,

Shattering it. Everywhere

The shadows retreat,

Creating space for

Dreams to curl in.

Pale and thin, the

Young moon crawls

Across a cobalt sky,

Behind fast-flying

Clouds that proceed

Without shedding a drop.

Some sound, probably

A mechanical hybrid,

Growls at the shaking

Silence that stands

Transfixed, staring

With glassy fearful eyes.

Suddenly it stops,

Stumbling over a hand

That presses a lever.

Through it all,

Summer, the sentinel,

Keeps vigil,

Sitting atop the darkness

On a rock outcrop.