When they buried you
we danced
 
in city square, as if 
it were Sadie Hawkins Day.
 
Our women took the lead
and spun the men into dizzy hordes
of moonshine drunks in Sunday best,
 
who wove in and out of crowds
until good cheer blanketed everyone.
 
But not because we were happy.

© 2006 Kenneth Barnes

The Picture She Drew on a Bus Ride Through the City

Her hands confessed the failure of marriage -- 
coarse creases from holding tight
to lost causes, each line reading like paths
on a map of pain;
fingers playing charades
with the flash of silver and gold
to hide the wealth of 20 years in solitude.

© 2006 Kenneth Barnes