Morning Glory

She let me add
a climbing vine
to her garden.

Those trumpets opened,
the blue flowers
in my every morning,
that yet still, today,
cry for sun.

The morning glories were
twisted around the fence —
the blue flowers were
our only compromise, because

I hated the red
crinkly marigolds
or whatever
the easy hardy ones were.
I hated the woody geraniums —
too tough.

I loved the delicate flowers
like her.

I liked the blues, asked
if we could plant a morning glory
as beautiful as her.

Every morning is like her:
beautiful and elegant
blue climbing

But she was too dainty to
climb higher that mortal trellis,
live longer than
a twist of fate.

I should have
grown her with thorns
prickly but strong,
made her an immortal rose, but
I could not.
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert

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One Pass Mountain Without Snow

I passed a smile on the street that grew
like a bubble I wanted to save

She smiled in my direction
carelessly seducing a stranger

Yet she smiled into
a cell phone
her disembodied love

I hung up
on my pending flirt

Loneliness rings in my ears

My phone is death.

I postpone answering.

I’ve long passed, but
I hear her scream,
“Bastard! Who is she…
We’re done…”

I run back to help,
to commiserate

She smacks me in the face.
“Buzz off creep,” she cries.

Loneliness is good sometimes, but
I’d rather have a phone
if
connected.
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert

The Turn Of The Song

I have a song.

I am dismayed
composing music for glory
when everyone
hates my tone
my gin and tonic sorrow

They make notes
to hate me profoundly

They are like cats
when I sing like a bird

In my dreams, I
can sing and dance

But I awake to
lions’ prowling hunger, to
impending death for this
lamb whose stomach growls

To be eaten
is unpleasant.
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert

Gas Station Owner

The detectives took the swabs
made the photos. We’re
allowed to wash the blood
off the gas pumps

Gasoline only earns us hate.
The kid didn’t come in,
took the day off (too scared)

Cookies and crackers
made us
a little money —
customers think
we’re evil rich

The kid
didn’t show up for the night shift.

My wife
thought her smile
would have to work
like lightning
on an angel food cake,
candles on a birthday sale

The detectives took the swabs
made the photos. I’m
allowed to wash the blood
off the gas pumps

Put up a sign:
closed for funeral
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert

Drying Off

Again
my river eyes:
over the banks
Athena’s memories
flood the plains, my cheeks

Half-masted lids
stream thoughted,
unthroated scream
a murmur on salted lip corner

I can not stand
nor swim away.
A waterfall would
swallow me
if ever I would sleep
to see you drown
under
beyond entreaties
me,
again

I told them
the heavens

Help her.

—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert