(Photo of RC deWinter)



Stuck at the Border

Your visit was a sweet surprise,
an unexpected gift in this Sahara of a life.
It was like the old days,
not all of which were good,
but surely better than the ones I'm living now.
We spoke as if we had seen each other
only yesterday
instead of the three thousand
and some odd it's been.
Your stay was too short;
one minute you were sitting next to me
and the next you misted away,
drifting down a corridor I had never noticed.
When I tried to follow it evaporated,
leaving me standing between two stairways
that led to the same place: today.
I long for yesterday, but yesterday –
that's another country,
passport expired.




Even More


Last night, my darling, there wasn't

a micron of space between us.

You wrapped me in your blueness

as we lay, a living circle of yin/yang.

Sooty stubble scraped my face softly;

I welcomed every bristle marking me as yours.
Your skin tasted of ash and desire

as I nibbled my way down your long leanness,

your unintelligible murmurings

proof of the power of lips on flesh.

We became each other seamlessly,

faded into myth, and I loved you even more

when you brought me morning coffee.




great caesar's ghost

so when it was over
i quoted fleetwood mac

sitting behind the curtain
i granted absolution
to what were lies to begin with

that night in the old hotel
when i printed your skin
with the blood of my lips
you fed my brain
that laundry list of all the medications
you were taking
while standing in the kitchen
cooking the dinner never eaten

you never could bring yourself
to do me properly
ink on skin took the place of kisses
and everybody knew
what was going on between us
but you
and me

i know i could have loved you
but all you ever taught me
was how to use a knife
on the ides of march





it's a grey day
it has in fact
been a grey spring
the natural order of things
has been reversed

the lamb arrived too early
devoured by the lion resurrected
deprived of the sun's kiss
the buds are sullen
reluctant to bloom

the trees
advertise their nakedness
waving bare branches
in the wind

spring is veiled
in the pall of disappointment
iÕve been
looking forward to flowers
looking forward to light

and in the absence of warmth
finding neither
i gush the bitter fluid of frustration
stewing in my own juice


© RC deWinter


Bio:  RC deWinterÕs poetry is anthologized in Uno: A Poetry Anthology (Verian Thomas, 2002), New York City Haiku (NY Times, 2017), Cowboys & Cocktails: Poetry from the True Grit Saloon (Brick Street Poetry, April 2019), Havik (Las Positas College, May 2019), Castabout Literature (Dantoin/Hilgart, June 2019) The Flickering Light (Down in the Dirt, June 2019), in print in 2River View, Down in the Dirt, Genre Urban Arts, Meat For Tea: The Valley Review, Pilcrow & Dagger, Pink Panther Magazine, Reality Break Press, Scarlet Leaf Review, The New York Times and in numerous online literary journals.