Another Long Night in the Office of Dreams 
by Jeffrey McDaniel

There’s a woman I’m in love with, but I forget
what she looks like, so I take out my paintbrushes
and create my image of her.
Your eyes are blue like the morning of going.
Your ears are tender twists of logic. Your thighs
are impossible avenues my car swerves out of control on.

I want to cut the silence with your shoulder blades,
blow moon-shaped kisses to orbit your skull
as you sleep on the highest ledge of my insomnia,

but I’m a broken promise in a pawn shop,
and this is just a secret that happens to involve you.

grace - jeffrey mcdaniel

Grace
by Jeffrey McDaniel

Glance at a woman on a train platform.

Suddenly we've been married for years.

I know all the delicate nuances

in her nine dialects of silence.

Can pick her from a thousand others

just with a sniff of her neck.

We sit next to each other, as we always have.

Our elbows touch, like the tips of matches.

Exactly the way I remember.

When she says excuse me, this is my stop,

there is nothing awkward about it.

the obvious - jeffrey mcdaniel

The Obvious
by Jeffrey McDaniel

We didn't deny the obvious
but we didn't entirely accept it either

We said hello to it each morning in the foyer
we patted its little head as it made a mess in the backyard
but we never nurtured it.

Many nights the obvious showed up at our bedroom door in its pajamas
unable to sleep, in need of a hug

and we just stared at it like an Armenian
or even worse hid beneath the covers
and pretended not to hear its tiny sobs.

the quiet world - jeffrey mcdaniel

The Quiet World
by Jeffrey McDaniel


In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.


When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.


Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.


When she doesn't respond,
I know she's used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.