Your Mother Wears a House Dress

If your house

is a dress
it’ll fit like
Los Angeles
red sun
burning west,
deserts, fields,
for certain it will
drape even
a boy no less
boy in disrepair
wandering from shore
to crest, others
mistake his
searching for
despair, no,
never, but
for thirst,
cloaked as
he is, warm,
radiant in a
house dress.

By Joseph O. Legaspi

Chlorine Splashes

chlorine splashes 

dirty blue 

untold secrets in this dirty pool

his eyes stare 

cold blooded

hands bare

touching there

his hands in her hair

helplessly i stare frozen to the stair

i feel our eyes touch

children need not see 

the ugly truth that be

Tension so deep that the water sleeps 

he leans into her more 

the terrace shrinks 

with chlorine splashes 

he’s out 

I don’t scream


why don’t i scream

they leave 

count the stars to quiet your racing heart

the sky

the world 

a salty sea splash of dirty blue

drowned with untold secrets