Entry 1: The Storm
I woke up to an especially loud thunderstrike
And remembered I wasn't scared this time.
I looked to my left and saw he was still asleep,
The lights and sounds had no mark on him,
Maybe because the outdoor pathway light was still on,
The contrast dimmed-
I could see white drips of water coming off the roof
Like a stop motion film
Now it's one drop, now it's lower, flashing
In between lightning, the sky was pink
From the heavy clouds that reflect the never-ending
Building and street lights that define the city.
Still I choose to miss
The dark of my lightless town.
Thunder, lightning, how close was that one?
I nudge him awake, saying I want water
When I really just want to share the storm,
But remember
Men would always rather sleep.
It took me hours and the storm moving miles
Before I gave up and stopped expecting
The next flash,
The rolling rumble,
And sudden wind against the windows.
Entry 2: The Walk
He went up the hill to smoke
In the morning after the thunderstorm
I asked if he wanted to go for a walk
(He said no)
But left alone as
I follow him through the window
He stood behind a tree, either
So he couldn't see me
Or I couldn't see him
I watch his hands moving to and from his mouth
One with a cigarette
Other with a green mug, holding it as a globe
He left for a break
To make himself with smoke
And honeyed tea
Entry 3: Reaching
A dark man lying between my legs
Holding thick thighs
in open palms
Eyes to the ceiling snap shut when I see
All day it's been eyes up
Or down
Hands never-still but never-to-me
Lips to cigarettes and hands to little Lizzy
to the trees
Lifting her when she shouts
“Sky!
Look!
Touch!”
She uses the best and fewest words
To point at
The thin branches, not sky
But it's the closest
Any of us reach
Even little girls with important words
That are raised by the same arms
Now pressed
against my flesh
Still but not silent
Uncomfortable in this stifling cradle
Where you can't reach farther
Only push hard against the walls
No comments:
Post a Comment