Lori Left Months Ago

When serendipity brings us together
on a distant city’s mass transit platform
our surprise is complete
and we hug longer than customary
even for friends long separated.

Her train leaves the platform
with her staring at me
six inches from my face
while we talk and talk and talk
about all the things
we never said before
because close proximity
affected the risk-reward calculation
of speaking our minds.

copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney


Hard to find space
at the edge
of the stuffed
animal menagerie
that shields the bed
from intruders
like myself.

Eros is but a dream
held against
the ceiling
where stars
without constellations
glow when the lights
turn out.

The window
has a view
of stacked
white bee hives—
the knowledge
sweet things
come from effort.

I go away
to bring home
a warm baguette
for the butter
on a dish
on the dining table
so we may
break bread.

copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney

Hot Bread On The Sill Cools

Demand my affection
between the rows of blue corn.

An old folk song spills
from the farm house window.

We follow its lines back
to a threshold, return to a garden,

a love seat, an end table
with tall glasses of lemonade.

Demand my kisses
where the apples still hang

from stiff stems, not quite ripe,
but close—delicious to contemplate.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney


Back when
all of space
was compressed
into a tight dot
smaller than a quark,
time stood
sequentially coiled
waiting on a tally
of yeses and noes
for just how long
the lives
of each future
should extend
down its filament
and did not protest
when lovers
caused equal
to transpire
at a different rate
than the lonely.

copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney