Reconcile

I sent you away
on a paper boat I watched
drift and disappear.

folded every touch
into delicate creases
laying them to rest.

I convinced myself
that I would find peace with you
and all the goodbyes.

learning to draw

I stayed
in the porcelain tub,
until the heat
had disappeared.
Emerging,
I felt the contours
of my body slip,
letting me learn
my shape
as the water
traced each line
to the floor,
sliding over
each hill
and valley
making
abstract gestures
on skin's
canvass.

untitled

My legs flashed
under the water
catching shards
of the broken sun.
I heaved
my soaked body
onto the dock,
letting the wood's
warmth sink
into my skin.

Your breaths
barely there.
Just a slight sigh
from your chest.
 

Devotion

Holes in the fog
streams of clarity
and glimpses of life.
Real life.
Where couples, hands interlocked
sway on sidewalks
their faces smudged
by the soft and luxurious words
they speak into each other’s hair.
Sometimes I find myself wondering
when I will be able to see through
the illusions.
When my hair will become the dense
net of secrets that are only shared
between lovers.
I want to know intimacy of the
deepest and most raw kind.
Like sunflowers turning
to the pale yellow
strands of sun.

Things Unsaid

Do you remember
when I stood in the bucket of your backhoe
and said, “No time, I have things to do Daddy?”
Surrounded by charred orange
and the brush strokes of fall,
you laughed and the sun's brightness
was nothing compared to you.

I have never told you this,
but the way you smell is perfect
wood shavings
car grease and sweat
and accomplishment because you can fix anything.

You don't know that when I got you for dinner
I would wait minutes outside the garage
listening to your off key whistling
and the slightly fuzzy radio.
You would add 5/8s should do it,
beckoning the swoosh and click of the tool box,
and right before my fingers reached the door handle
I could close my eyes
let out every bit of air
and feel the strength of your arms encasing me,
the stubble that caught like barbs on my cheeks.
I should have had time for you.

Vroman's Nose

A patchwork of farms
spread over the valley,
interlocking squares of land.
We inched our bodies
to the ledge,
letting our legs hang over.
Our skin warmed in the sun
as we watched the world
move below us.
My muscles stung
from the climb
and welcomed rest.
The rock we laid on
was engraved with names
of those that made the hike,
trails of handwriting
scrawled on the earth.  

The First Time

I waited for dinner,
my legs swinging
under the table.
A pot on the stove
was hissing with steam.
My mother rushed
cabinets to burner
reaching the water
just as it began
spilling over.
Pouring the ravioli
into a strainer
I heard her
begin to weep, softly,
arms bracing the counter.

"Lord, I have nothing else to feed them."

The pasta had burst
the cheese ruined,
small clumps
lying in the drain.

"Momma, stop crying, we don't have to eat tonight."

A Grown Light

I went to my grandparents' house
in the early summer,
and there behind the garage
was a patch of yellow raspberries.
Their vines sprawled across mortar and brown earth
holding clusters of caught sun.

The flesh of that sun
hot in the hem of my dress as I ran it to the house.
My feet marking their existence in the earth,
and the smell of the air told me it was summer.
My nanny said I picked the first of the raspberries.
I told her I picked the light that grew by the garage.

I watched the bright windows of the garage
reflect sun
to the growing raspberries.
In the house
grandpa explained, saying it was the hold summer
had on the earth.

But it was the hold summer
had on me, and the magic of the garage
that made summer
shine like the sun
in a house
of raspberries.

While the raspberries
shown incandescent on the earth,
the space between the house
and the garage
grew larger, like the uncountable suns
hanging on branches of green summer.

The summer
that fed raspberries
gleaming sun
planted in the earth
behind the garage
at my grandparents' house.

A house that made summer
simpler than a garage's raspberry bush
and more meaningful than earth and sun.

Heritage day

The crystalline webs of sugar
were strung between our fingers,
jean shorts slung over budding hips
and pale skin begging for sun.
Hanging on each other, we moved against
the crowds of people
and the smell of barbecue
wafting through the air.
The pavement had turned soft
leaving tar on the soles of our shoes.
----
The night air settled
on the empty vendors
as music filtered from the big top tent.
Elderly couples held each other
swaying to country melodies.

Martha's Vineyard

The light faded as
water crashed against the bluff
and mist caught the air.

I wandered alone,
filing through the slender grass
washed in soft color.

Rocks huddled in length
forming the shore to coastline,
an edge to the tide.

Day set into sea,
disappearing in the deep,
night's dark mast hoisted.

Peter Pan

I didn't want to go to church.

Not in the summer,

not when I could go to the pool hall.

I lived for the smell of

blue chalk,

the scratch of green felt

grazing my fingertips,

the ball running down the table

into a pocket.

The maid took me to the movies.

She sat in the balcony

with the other blacks.

I drank Coca- Colas.

I was born in the house

by the mill.

They had to get my father from work.

I didn't cry

I didn't breath.

The doctor blew cigarette smoke

into my nose,

my lungs woke.

A Summer Sonnet

The carnival lights shone brightly around
our exposed arms and sun softened faces.
My voice fell the distance to you and drowned
under the sea of tones and plain graces.
Fine dust caked the undersides of our feet
as we traipsed through our summer fairy-tale.
The sweet air still laden with the day's heat
hung to us, night's own gauzy wedding veil.
We shoved Time into the bottom of our
back pockets, and thought we could overcome
the moments and minutes and their power
over what our lives had slowly become.
In a small instant we became endless,
without words for what we had to express.

Blenheim

Do you remember
the day we kept walking-
over the virgin landscape
and broken countrysides?
We climbed,
fistfuls of wet earth
filling our grasp
to where the trees broke.
I traced the curves
of rivers with my finger,
learning the way
water moves.
Sky and land
slipped together
embracing at the horizon.

Community Pool

A fly in the windowsill
sputters in circles,
heaving itself
from the chipped paint
before lying still.  
Young children teeter
the edges of the pool
flopping themselves in,
unafraid of the cold,
wet submerge.

The mothers
start appearing.
Midriff-covering floral suits,
bag slung over arm,
and little ones
following closely.

Today the sun
glares down
in angry rays that dart
across dimpled edges
of the water.

Summer

I want you to talk to me in intricate ways
that are sharp and sweet,
like sentenced strings of
rock candy in your mouth.
You remind me of those days
that whisper
and sigh contentment.
Moving loosely through the
tendrils of slow hours
I did not know
how much time had passed.
I remember only the brilliance
of your form among the landscape
and the music that slipped
from your throat.

Generations

You kept puzzle pieces
in old cookie tins
not returned after holidays
and stacked on the kitchen counter
next to a microwave
you left unplugged.

Visits

She took a white gloved finger to the hutch
sliding it slow across the polished wood
seeing if the dust had amounted much.
I remained quite uneasy where I stood.
She gracefully moved toward my silverware,
inspecting for spots that appeared tarnished.
Then looking to the floor and dining chairs
stated I should invest in varnish.
"I shall leave the china for next time,"
she sighed, gliding to the door, coat on arm.
"I expect to see no traces of grime,"
and I was left to wonder at her charm.
The door had clicked softly on her way out
an amusing mother-in-law no doubt.

Laid to Rest

He picked up
the old window
white paint on the molding
chipped with the touch
and fell.
The glass panes
were warped
and held small
pockets of air, crystallized.
He set it against
an old back door,
the metal hinges
rusted and burnt red
stuck in place
and left them to rest
in a barn with all the pieces
of a house
he could not forget.

Home

Dew had settled thick over the pasture
sliding down my bare legs as I moved through
high grass, not knowing what I was after
the song of peepers filled the air and grew.

Small globes of light traced lines over the sky
the glowing sketches dim and fading slow
I watched the border of trees heave and sigh
as the wind began to slightly blow.

I laid down on the cool dirt, my eyes closed
and listened as the night moved around me
waiting in the dark my body exposed
dense black pulling my mind to be set free.

Twilight crept silent over the hills
laying to bed the nature's quiet will.

Seaside

The phantom birds
land on the misty water
every morning
slipping in and out of reeds
atmospheric and weightless
in the early sun.
Spiderwebs gleam
diamond patterns
woven through the grasses
on the shore cloaked with dew.
A line of boats
shoulder the dock
hulls knocking softly.

Open Doors

I waited
as you lit a cigarette
letting the smoke search
for broken window panes
over the walls
plaster peeling in thick curls.

Shoes were stacked
by the back door,
old birthday cards and faded tax returns
spread across cracked linoleum
newspapers spilled down the stairs.

I held your hand,
moving through the abandoned rooms
as we tested floorboards
laying down each sole,
slowly with our weight.