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Mark Windham


A Table for Two

I requested a table
for two – something quiet,
intimate – where we
could be alone … with each other.
The mood was right
the lighting perfect
the food excellent
the service superb
Her eyes swirled like
the spoon stirring her
coffee, and never met
my own.
I requested a table
for two, but at no point
were we ever alone...
with each other.

Sea Creature

I find her shoes
on the dunes –
discarded frivolities fusing
with the landscape –
then follow her footsteps
to the water
where the gulls dance
around her head –
screeching and snapping
at the bread she throws –
while gravity makes plans
in the seabird’s shadows.
She sends the remaining
crumbs into the waves
like an offering, as if she can sense
the sea’s need for sacrifice.
She has always been a creature
of the shore,
the taste of salt
in her words
and a thread of ocean
breezes in her breath.

Night Watcher

There is something missing
between the cricket
songs and the croak
of the frogs,

an emptiness

where once the night
was full. It was some time
before I recognized

the absence

before I understood
the differing
degrees

of silence.

I have been watching
the house for many
nights, the movement

of shadows

from room to room.
The lights no longer
stay on all night,

darkness

regains its dominion
a bit earlier
each evening. The

figures

behind the windows
are no longer restless
and I am able

to identify

the absent sounds…
there is no pulse
pounding in my ears,

no breath

to form whisper mists,
and cries no longer
echo through the house

I begin to fade.

Soul Absent, Heart Undetectable

Oh, it will be uncomfortable,

a cold hard table — you never

did like the cold — and bright

lights…no where to hide.

Layer upon layer will be revealed,

there will be no secret you

can conceal, no mystery

to remain hidden.

But you should not worry,

in the end it will be a futile

exercise. There is no way to cut

from you that which you never had.

Arguing in the Dark

She
prefers
serious
conversations
be held in the dark.
With the light out you must
judge the other’s emotions
by touch and the pace of their breath.
One becomes less concerned with conquest
trying to sense smiles or tears in the dark.

Picture

Mark Windham's Profile

Ripples and Reflections

It is fitting my time should end
in this place and this season,
with the waters calm
and the colors fading.
Spare me the musty embrace
of earth’s last grasp,
or the ashy kiss of a final fire.
Instead, place me in a boat
and push me from the shore
beneath an afternoon sun,
so that I may float among
the reflected leaves
until nighttime falls.
May the ripples of my passing
bring more joy than those
of my life.

A Regular Customer

We all recognize him — tips well,
never rude or demanding, nothing
complicated in his order — when he
comes in, by himself late in the afternoon.
He sits at a table facing the sea
and takes his time ordering. The food
may be different — today it is oysters –
but he always drinks red wine.
The surf holds his attention, and I
often notice him following the
progress of the beach walkers as they
fill the void between land and waves.
It is rare for him to have more
than two drinks, always saving
the last swallow for a toast
to the sunset before he leaves.
Today, there is no sun,
and the storms in his eyes
are a perfect match to those
on the horizon.

Shades

Sometimes
I remember
before the world
became shades of grey.
 
I remember
she wore yellow
when days were warm,
the sun worshiping her glow.
 
Sometimes I remember
the sight of her smile
behind the veil in the moment
before we wed
 
I remember every time she wore
red high heels – beautiful already,
with no need for adornment, seeking
attention she rightfully deserved.
 
I remember the last time
I was able to look into the crystal
depths of those eyes, glistening,
as she searched for reasons to stay.
 
Sometimes I remember before
the world became
shades of
grey.

Fangzi  Mian

It is difficult to decide
between the complex flavors
of the house noodles
and the fire of the spicy chicken.

She was the first -- a rare beauty
in an east Texas town -- with burning
desire and a rebellious nature.
She searched for something
the boys who surrounded her
could not provide. She tired
of me faster than the fill
of the lo mien fades,    
or the fire of the sauce subsides.


Lately, I order the noodles more,
preferring to savor the layers
of life embedded in each bite.
Occasionally though, there is still
an appeal to the heat.

Places

Turning pages in the park,
a bench upon to rest,
a breeze to spill leaves.
    
Thunder spews from the heavens,
shimmering sheets of rain
obscure the horizon.
    
Camping on the curb
at midnight, watching
the jets come and go.
    
An afternoon on the porch
Steps while stories grow as long
as the shadows on the yard.
    
I have found no place where
there is no memory of you.

Picture

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