December 20, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

How sad these bare shelves
filmed with particles

and discarded silences.
Packed away are volumes

of passages: life works,
poetry collections,

biographies, pulpy remainders.
Framed photos of friends

such as these two bibliophiles,
her library card tattered

with use, while he spent
unemployment money

on books, which we heard,
she threw at him in anger

and regret that her walking,
talking, stupid encyclopedic

husband loved books
more than she. His bare

self never shown;
exactly how boxed in he was

was none of our business
while his spine faced out, gilded

and boldfaced for anyone to read.

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

December 9, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

What does it mean when
you type in your password
quickly and incorrectly, like a boy
grinning through his first kiss?

Rushing into the blankness,
drenching your hopes
with so many happy hour specials:
his email never shows, what is this

reluctance to hit reply, a steaming
latte cozy between his thighs?
Maybe you’re not hunting
and pecking anymore but

that same phrase always challenges
you, the backs of your hands
hovering over the keys
to your guarded heart.

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

December 8, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

tasting peace–
snowflakes cool
our singing tongues

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

December 7, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

a warm December–
no seeds scattered
below the birdfeeder

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

December 2, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

free portraits
with drunk Santa!
pillow fight club

Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments »

December 1, 2007 by Melanie Alberts.

harvesting chives
in the morning rain—
your scent is everything

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment »