Two Works of Poetry

                                                                     Lost to the Almost
The uncanny valley (n): When some-
thing looks almost human, but it’s not quite right.
Chest tightens, eyes widen, the revulsion settles in.
It’s something strange. Some other creature.
Did you feel this way when you deemed
me as other?
Almost?
Well, I almost went along with it.
I almost dusted off a mask I left deep in my attic
and dressed in the threads of a dead girl.
I almost danced in tandem with
you, in shoes not styled for my two left feet.
I feel like my skin is crawling
but I’m walking off a cliff with a smile
because I think being something to
you is worth withering down to nothing.
A lifetime of building brought to its undoing.
A shame, truly.
In another time, you held
me as a human.
It’s almost human, but not quite right.
We’re almost something, in another mind.
In another life, perhaps your eyes and
mine could meet, and I could bare to stare
a moment longer at the disappointment.

 Keep Charging, My General
A river runs beneath the stars
charging forth to the sea
and as far as I can see
grass ripples out in her wake
blades breaking through terrain
nature, something so tranquil
yet the war effort is paramount
powered by water, by river
my general, against the current
against black smoke and trash hordes
a corrupting force, disrupting the flow
that keeps us saplings going,
the sun rises up from the riverbed,
awakening red dawn.