I started this poetry book when I was in high school.  I wanted to combine emotive photography and the “1000 words” inspired by it.


Saint Francis

How have you captured my lady’s heart, when it is so cold and old and tested?  There’s life all around and only the sound of the breeze and her tearful hard breathing.  The squirrels have emptied the offering plate she laid out.  They clack at her when she walks Matilda the Christmas Dog, who survived distemper and the county dog pound, but will not survive her relationship with this family.  One charged me and Matilda jumped to protect me from a face coming at me with hairy intent.  I didn’t flinch, so the squirrel relented.  Saint Francis, in last year’s silver coat of paint, did not look up, did not look anywhere new.  His position was set long ago, before the dog, before the neighbors began to complain again.  I’m the traveler stuck in Houston with love as my guide and she is underestimated always.  No one knows that her love can’t be violated better than I know my own devotion.  No one stands up for her the way I should have, just because I was not a cowardly friend, just because I was allowed to be here because I said I would protect her.  All she has for comfort is the cold concrete reminder that love has made a difference.  All she has for hope is that love will make a difference again.