Tyson West
Ruins
Until we reached the peak of Steptoe Butte
where you fell pale and winded on the burnt
foundation stones of its long dead dancehall
I had no sense how strong your illness stood.
You never hid the mersa, bleeding brain
or failing liver lurking for their time.
Defects of flesh no matter how acute
did not define the inner fire that would
burn brightly for your grandkids, art and sex.
From your decline and fearless love I learnt
time's measured not in minutes but the flow
of hope. You rose and deftly swung me good.
We waltzed against the wind. Your pain's cuts weren't,
you laughed, as clumsy as my steps, but suit
this dance. Time's feet fall just as resolute.
Bio
Tyson West has published speculative fiction and poetry in free verse, form verse and haiku distilled from his mystical relationship with noxious weeds and magpies in Eastern Washington. He has no plans to quit his day job in real estate. His poetry collection "Home- Canned Forbidden Fruit" is available from Gribble Press.