Donald W. Hayward Poems

You came to see me
When I was broken
And I thought that
I would die
...

My father used to make me play
"You are part of this family, Goddammit! "
He would grab me by my shoulder
Slam me into the chair
...

So I held her closely
Her music was a whisper of perfume, pervasive,
Wondrous, like shadows dancing on a wall
In time, in space, to the beat, to the scales of a piano
...

Perhaps there is a sequence
That you have not learned
And that is why
...

The black graphite pencil riddle
Ask arcane carpenters questions
They will say that some matter has plasticity
Sometimes it doesn't matter
...