Gerry Fabian

Changing The Oil In My Heart

It is a solicitous endeavor.

First, it requires going to the old German woman

who will kill, bleed and pluck a chicken for me.

For $15.00, I get the chicken, an empty butter tub,

and the vial of orchid infused root based

spring water oil.

Once the ingredients are procured,

I am instructed the check the calendar

for the next moon waxing eve.

On this night,

I pour half the vial in beet juice

and the remainder in a glass

of diluted rose water

along with some chicken stock.

At 11:11 pm, I drink the beet juice

followed by the rose water.

Slowly the bitterness and loss

drain through my heart.

When the tub is filled with tears,

I am cleansed.

Secluded Cotillion

Slow dancing with shadows

in a soft illumination

of saxophone salvos.

She is so secure

as the soft inspired sound

saturates.

Each second is liquid silver -

shifting, setting and sliding

in such slow motion

that the stroke of time’s sounds

become sensual slivers

in separate, solemn steps.

Maybe You Should Have

loved me harder.

I need a granite woman

who chisels rather than polishes.

I want off-road by the river

campfire sleeping bag passion

not docile city central air

with vintage wine and skyline affection.

I wanted so bad to find love with you

My chapped and calloused hands

could never grasp the slick manicure.

R. Gerry Fabian is a poet and novelist. He has published four books of his published poems, Parallels, Coming Out Of The Atlantic, Electronic Forecasts and Wildflower Women as well as his poetry baseball book, Ball On The Mound.