Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Dream House

I had to give up a father, a mother, four dogs, two fetuses, much of my sight, a marriage, many lovers
I had to give up you once already without even a real good bye only an email unanswered (though I understand this) and the misted memory of you running off into the night in your huge black boots, your voice on the phone fading even before we hung up
Sometimes I would see a face like yours, with hard planes and soft places, or remember an idea you gave me as easily as if you’d picked it from the lemon tree in my yard but mostly I just thought, He’s gone like all the rest
So I locked the doors of my little yellow house with the mermaid bathroom and the roses and the pond and kissed my children goodnight, made them breakfast, swept the floors
Maybe I came to you at night sometimes barefoot only in a white t-shirt, my legs not even properly shaven, my hair a mess, no makeup, sitting cross legged at the foot of your bed to watch you sleep
Never touching you or saying a word
Maybe you felt me at the periphery of your dreams
Forming pictures in your mind
Of the two of us running hand in hand through a decimated world
While our foot prints spring with lilies
Now I may have to say goodbye to the yellow house
One more thing on the list of farewells
But I still hold my children in my arms
and this time when I visited you in your dreams
You knew

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Black coat sweep me up into your woolen folds
Against my bare thin arms I feel your warm dense skin
Wrap me up like the food in spongy injera bread collard greens and lentils and yams scooped up
Drink me like his mouth on red wine
Carry me along the cold sidewalk to the bright hotel lobby
Parquet floors and floor to ceiling bookshelves leaded glass and wood paneling milky domes of light
Rest on the back of my chair the back of my gold dusted bony shoulders
Feel me beating inside you listen to my story of loss and pain and the kind of love that makes your bones ache and your organs feel too big
Take me home hold me in the warm car so the chill dissolves like mist when I tell you I am afraid kiss me into silence with a mouth that tastes somehow like my secret places, meat and wine though he has not tasted them
hoist me against you keep kissing me kiss me again on the sidewalk press your wanting against my pelvis so I can not mistake it when I walk across the street stop me in the center grab me kiss me again promise me nothing except the memory of your inebriating embrace

Monday, January 9, 2012

come here, inside this house
where you can like all kinds of music hip hop or rap or pop or experimental harp music
you can even like to smoke cigarettes in the yard
you can complain about food you can cry as much as you like if you swear you have to put a quarter in the jar but no one will stop loving you you can eat pizza or only kale and you will still be loved without condition
you can be a sober drug addict or a pre adolescent angry girl or a laker’s fan or a heat fan
you can wear black patent nike high tops or organic cotton there will be soup for you if you want it there will be a bed if you need it there will be a dripping faucet and messy closets and stacks of papers and a dog who will jump on you and possibly tear your clothes there will be scraps of old master paintings, lace and jewels to make collages there will be books to read and lemons on the tree and dust bunnies under the couch no matter how many times i swiffer
there is always a beautiful child singing in this house
sometimes there are children fighting there is always a dog barking when you are trying to meditate
i used to dance and write love poetry in this house now i melancholaly fondle each day like a prayer bead and let it go
hoping you might come inside some time
to dine with us

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Love plays in the surf with his children
Who are like statues of young gods in a museum brought to life
Love’s eyes that same murky jade as waves fraught with particles of debris and shadow
I hear his words in my mind sometimes
rhythms imitating those of my own convulsing body
I can’t let him come here take me to dinner sweat beside me on a mat
Let alone in my bed
Can I?
There’s too much at stake for both of us and so I wait for Music
To be less elusive
Which rarely if ever occurs
For if you were Music would you make plans
Hold children in your arms say I love you
Just those three words simple and straight?
Or would you vibrate among the stars speaking only in secret messages
Breaking hearts but never admitting
being broken?

Sunday, January 1, 2012

love in his dinosaur pajamas, love in her black cashmere, love in the same basketball jersey he's worn for days, love in freshly washed puppy fur, love in the exact moment of becoming a woman two hours before the clock strikes midnight
love walks in wearing a family of three, dryad and centaur and a small tree elf
bringing organic champagne
love eats pizza and chocolate chip cookies and ice cream bars
lentil soup with yams and butternut squash kale and onion and coconut oil
love snuggles under blankets on couches beds and mattresses on the floor in a room lit with the sub-marine glow of fairy lights
while i strut painless in my new cognac leather boots tucking love in, putting love to bed
everywhere i turn i can see love clearly through the lenses of my new glasses
while you, invited to love's party but unresponsive, stand alone on your ladder in your bowler hat overlooking a broken wall
into another universe where perhaps love has another name