I sit in this room
breathing your sadness,
you want me to say
yes, there is a God, 
meteors won't fall from the sky
and that tumors
won't eat your closest friend

but the dinosaurs died, didn't they,
and sirens wail every night.

A coward, I fold my arms, 
listen to the seas race past 
our window towards land
where some other
man cries over lost dreams
and the way the moon
reflects off the water
when the winds finally settle.

Pris Campbell

To see an alternative graphic presentation of this poem, click HERE, then click your back arrow to return.

Accepted for publication in Verse Libre,
summer 2003

This poem also took second place out of 149 entries entered into the free verse section of the Poets of the Palm Beaches annual 2003 poetry competition.




making space

our house overflows with killed promises
and I think of days when
I still took kisses for granted

like 'amen' 
at the end of a Sunday prayer
the purr of a cat
when offered a nuzzle under the chin

we both know 
yesterday dies
to make room for tomorrow

but you haven't yet learned,
as I have,
that a heartbeat 
can be revived 
by the curve of an arm,
the outreach of a palm.

Pris Campbell

Accepted for publication in the Peshekee River Poetry Journal Spring 2003

Artwork: Femina03 by Itzhak Ben-Ariel
copyrighted and used with permission

Music: Eoriel by Enya

Award winning Israeli photographer Itzhak Ben-Ariel is truly gifted.
both in his portraits and his combined photographic images. He has
appeared on my pages before. To see more of his work, click on his
name and HERE, for a second site.

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