Sunday, May 10, 2026

In The Room


 In The Room

They are not as grey as I would have imagined
Neither of us wants to speak first
Unforgetting, small brown eyes follow my every move
Our fear of immediate discontent is palpable
I am amazed
There is enough space
For the three of us
We are avoiding the obvious
Its tail swishing with the tension
We are broken
The furniture ignores its size
Our hearts dull
Its trunk sways this way and that
Yesterday is no longer about tomorrow
Grateful there are no mice scurrying about
We think small thoughts
Ivory tusks majestic and white
There is no clear path
And all I can think
They are not as grey as I would have imagined
While avoiding a lovers' graveyard

By
Robert Lloyd

Saturday, May 9, 2026

Sorghum Toil

 


Sorghum Toil

The imperfections
We once loved
Are now the cracks
Fracturing us

Our core,
That original heart,
Now works as brittle glue
Binding,
But failing

We are
Chaos and pain,
Circular
Like breathing,
The unnatural
Natural motions

Our ebb and flow
Slows
Like molasses
In winter,
And we are no longer certain
We wish to light the stove
To once again
Soften the bitter, salted
Blackstrap

— Robert Lloyd