Tuesday, May 18, 2010

May 15th


At the garden every thing was

Soft


roses innumerable regal impossible

With vibrant colors and vibrant names


And vibrantly dressed admirers circling

So benign and contented


I came to pray on the day of my

Lady Saint


For protection and for strength


Made a shrine beneath the

Sufficiently hidden rose pink blooms


A tangerine to please her sight

A mirror to catch the sunlight


Incense of pine and in a perfume bottle

My own blood drawn by my long knife


The bottle was a gift from my grandmother

And the blood was just the same


I clutched her rosary and my medallion

And felt that I was begging





May 17th


Covered in last night’s mosquitos’ red welts

I am eyeing silk orchids on the dresser-top.


Bathed of last night’s red earth hammock sleep

I find myself in Wedgwood blue sheets


Itching and scratching

I know not who I am talking to


But hear my grandmother’s clacks on the hardwood

her voice, “It’s raining again,”


An ash colored kitten pounces on my gliding feet

Beneath the covers


With wide marine-glass eyes


The song I sung today is wrapping up

A ball of yarn


The long drive south from pine country

To the cypress trees and ocean fog


I smelled the fresh salt water stepping out of my car

And knew that I was there, here, the place which


Cools my seething brain

Perhaps to fall asleep with the light still on


The year I’ve seen has been a storm

And I have always been a shaky bloom


All treat me with delicate care, understanding

As they do the unspoken reasons behind my rheum


No comments:

Blog Archive