The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
loved

Of everything I have ever loved
i thought i would die first 
fearing to trace the irrational through enough digits
ever tossing the yolk between life's shells
fearing to face the finality of the ceramic
dish that steadies my organic batter
unable to forget the bitterness of 
meringues or the bite of lemon days
neither excites one to the depths of peace or 
the pondering of ever thinning milks 
that honey our holographic entanglements 
to press an intimate print upon 
my tear-swollen concrete 
still checking myself in mirrors
while the sun melts into the sea.
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