Cut Flowers

Yes, you are going to die,
but you're here now, and so am I,
proud of a beauty that passes,
each in our separate vases.


When you died and, they say, went to heaven,
you left behind a stunning argument
there is no justice, and grace is hard;

for the grave opens like the Tunnel of Love
into darkness, with the exit too far to see.

Pod People

You are you and I am you
and we are also you.
When you are I and we are here
all differences will disappear,

like words a mynah bird repeats
or houses on suburban streets,
redrawn by what the pod erases
one person, wearing different faces.

Ed Shacklee

If you have any comments on these poems,  Ed Shacklee would be pleased to hear from you.