Cheryl A. Caron

Restless, blue-green water
Curling into angry fists
Groping the rocks
Yet coming up empty.
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Marital Madness
If you will
Who turned up the heat?
Have you seen the bill?
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Starting over with blank canvas
Where to go from here
I am lacking inspiration
All my visions are unclear
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Sunday Visit


Kneeling before your headstone
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Oh decadent deviance
How I hold you in
Each little act of wickedness
Every untold sin
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Dirty little sin
I keep holding you in
Eating me away on the inside
Leaving a wound gaping wide
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In between a couple of old forked trees
Is nestled a nailed together pine stand
Where a man dressed in camo and neon
Patiently waits with his rifle in hand
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One half lucid
One half walking in delusion
One half aware
One half believing the illusion
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A bright light in a cold room
A cry so beautiful, the first gentle touch
Tiny hand wrapped around my finger
Eyes so innocent, a face so pure
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Set aside your drink for now
Please take a seat beside me here
Don’t look for solace in that bottle
When you can find it in my ear
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Life is full of unasked questions
That tie our tongues so we won't mention
Our fears of falling or releasing the tension
Of years of pent up frustrations
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Sitting on the bench at the bus stop
Everything he owns in a shopping cart
Wrapped in plastic bags
Layered coats; tattered and dirty
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Nature versus nurture
A debate that can’t be won
Both feed off of each other
Unable to exist as only one
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Reset; Rewind
Let’s take it back in time
What was it that was said?
Do you recall it in your head?
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His calloused hands
On her soft smooth skin
Shivers up her spine
Oh decadent sin
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Please forgive
My procrastination
In getting to
This destination
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Tiptoeing softly along in my dream
I am following the echo of a silent scream
Through the haze I see her quietly sitting
In her lap sits the web she has been knitting
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The sun not yet risen
He steps out the doorway
And takes in the fragrances
Carried on the early breeze
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One part
A sudden shift
Something subliminal
Created the rift
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Faded old photographs
In a box in a drawer
Memories of the roads
I’ve traveled before
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