Old poems

Was cleaning off my desk and found the poor old poetry journal I kept from from around 1978 to 1989. It's in really bad shape. So I'm going to try to harvest as much as I can.

To Rachel (1989)

Just you and me.
You are unhappy.
We rock.
I fend of your cries
with an endless refrain:
"Hushabye, don't you cry
Go to sleep my little baby"
desperate to comfort you.
Finally you succumb to sleep,
dreaming your baby dreams
of eating.
Now I cry,
aching for this consolation
that no one gave to me,
and hating you
because I love you.

Untitle 1989

My little son killed a hamster
today;
Held it so tight
its tiny heart stopped.
And I cried
not for the hamster so much
as for myself
trapped
waiting for circumstances
to squeeze the life out of me.

Okay, that's enough. Too depressing.