Feeling a bit posty today and when I stumbled upon the friday archive at
loobylu I felt the need to participate and perhaps set myself at least a weekly goal. Its not been to hard for me either, to unearth the archives, because they happen to be sitting beside my desk for another project....bully for me, hmm
So this poem, titled For Chris is an old but goody, I say circa 2001
enjoy my sweets!
For Chris
I think about the cold too often,
my feet chill in the kitchen & I hate to wear socks,
they keep sticking to the carpet with static electricity--like glue.
Its raining & I can't stop thinking about what it feels like to be a bird,
as I scrunch, I wonder about flying
in the cold night sky
then I remember motorcycle rides in the fall
when the cold air would blow up my polyester uniform
& blast my supple virginity,
like the bird.
I think of summer to often
& I am in want of humidity,
in want of green fields that pull me to the earth
with tumbles and earthworms and grass tickling my thighs
I want warm kisses at the closest darkest moments of the night
when you hear the crickets rumble in insatiable torment
from the trees
& fans vibrate on window sills
& that moment when bodies bring connection & disconection
and your floating in warm damp sheets
& the moon calls with a wan on your insides,
bringing you discontent.
Once on a beach in New Hampshire
I found sweetness,
but it fell in the ocean & swam away from me
like a salmon upstream
expecting to mare against the current.
