no-win
trapped in a polygon
the shape of a star
i ricochet endlessly
point to point
i want you to adore me
i want you to leave me the fuck alone
let me be everything you desire
though i have nothing to give
never let me go
but don't tie me down
tell me everything
but shut up i'm writing
bring me the world
although i have no use for it
what man could live with this
what man could live without it
you know who you are
but i don't
hejira
my empty steps make no sound
leave no mark on this sand
harsh and granular
that stretches to infinity
i rose in the sun to leave a scar
in the eye of the world
but the my gifts were rejected
by indifferent gods who burnt them
then smeared me with the ash of Cain
leaving me only invisible ink
with which to mark my existence
all my words lifted into empty sky
by cold winds blowing across my Sahara
recantation
out of the
corner of my eye
i see you
waiting for
me to keep the promise i
made so long ago
and haven’t
forgotten but my
heart’s become
a hard and
silent stone nothing you want
to see nothing you
want to own
cloistered in a lake
of salt where
the ghost of
love sings siren songs of all
that can never be
in a voice
that haunts my dreams and
waking too
i can’t give
what i don’t own and maybe
never will so damn
me for a
liar and go and
live your life
while the sun
still shines and the stars still sing
songs that can come true
A – I’m Not Adorable
No one ever called me adorable –
not as a spindly, cross-eyed child,
a loud, brash adolescent,
a sharp-tongued, opinionated twentysomething,
a feisty, outspoken grownup and certainly
not now that, while not quite in my dotage,
I’m well over the hump of old age.
Not even you, my darling –
though you showered me with lavish words,
the precise gears of your mind ground that word
to powder when you said I was brilliant
and beautiful and perfect for you –
ever called me adorable.
I’m fine with this; adorable's a fluffy word,
and while I’m many things fluffy isn’t one of them.
And if you’re wondering why I’m addressing
such an arcane subject, I claim the eccentricity of age.
With no child, man, or even a cat,
I have nothing with which to fill the gaping maw
of acceptable small talk – or maybe I am in my dotage.
Whatever – I’m still not adorable.
After the old song “A You’re Adorable”
A You're Adorable - Perry Como
No Juliet
In the hazy smoke of this crowded room
I see you sitting in the corner, smiling at me.
Is it amusement or an invitation
piercing my second hand heart?
I see you sitting in the corner smiling at me,
your bold dark eyes
piercing my second hand heart
in the voice of a ghost.
Your bold dark eyes
speak to me
in the voice of a ghost,
promising a new sunrise.
Speak to me –
is it amusement, or an invitation
promising a new sunrise
in the hazy smoke of this crowded room?
So say what you have to say,
the clock ticks louder every day;
there’s no time to waste on fancy dancing.
Just lay it all out on the table.
The clock ticks louder every day
I can tell you’re not timid –
just lay it all out on the table
or you never will.
I can tell you’re not timid;
speak your heart now
or you never will.
I won’t be fortune’s fool.
Speak your heart now –
there’s no time to waste on fancy dancing.
I won’t be fortune’s fool,
so say what you have to say.
RC deWinter’s poetry is widely anthologized, notably in "New York City Haiku" (NY Times, 2/2017), "easing the edges: a collection of everyday miracles" (Patrick Heath Public Library of Boerne, 11/2021) "The Connecticut Shakespeare Festival Anthology" (River Bend Bookshop Press, 12/2021) in print: 2River, Event, Gargoyle Magazine, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, the minnesota review, Night Picnic Journal, Plainsongs, Prairie Schooner, San Antonio Review, Southword, The Ogham Stone, Twelve Mile Review, York Literary Review among many others and appears in numerous online literary journals.
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