The Salve of Your Voice

Moonlight concentrates
the salve of your voice.
Morning glories surface
pastel-light on your face.
Sweat behind my knees
simmers mutual desires:
one that is now between us
as sheets pile at the end of the bed;
one which will find us here old together.

(cc) Karen G. Johnston

Quarter-Century Friends

Quarter-century friends
fumble virtually
towards conversation,
towards justice archaic
and utterly urgent.

I feel boastful one minute,
lesser the next.
Humility and determination
make such odd bedfellows.

One a reminder
of my soul,
the other
a manifestation:
each a dire message
that I live a life
not of my own making.


(cc) Karen G. Johnston