Saturday, August 27, 2011

a poem finally

magic still sits crouched on the flagstones by the pond in converse
while small winged creatures flock around him
made of light made of light

love embraces his two children as i do mine
so that all of us is in that moment
the purest of love's stances holding them holding them

i sit here wondering who i am
when i'm not holding my two close to me
i've given up looking for our fourth
(except maybe the dog)
but long as i have my home
i'll be okay i'll be okay

it's august
the little yellow cottage still wears christmas lights
and there are two easter bunnies in the garden
stone buddhas in the back
i won't leave here unless they tear me away, and screaming
now you understand you understand

my soul is buried variously
beneath the birch tree and under the water hyacinth
in the attic and under the floorboards
i've resigned myself to being alone here
with my beloved children and the dog
this is who i am, not only where, not only where

and magic still crouches by the pond in converse
though i don't always see him
and love still scolds me for not having the right sharp knives
in my kitchen
though i insist i only want to casually date
a few men at a time