Sunday, November 18, 2012

All at Once

The night air is close
               like jasmine tea,
petals pressed in leaves of musty books,
              wistful spun silk.

rise like a luminous,
              distant planet

And I blanket myself
over some falling
as you paint the night sky
on my face,
tracing ancient lace trails
with each soft breath;
A sonic gesture
            telling tales
                  of fealty and desire.

Circles into circles,
        a thin weave of skin
Small leaves
        Some drift of acanthus.

Slow rain drops
Green grey
               The wind.
Your hands press
               Against me,
Dropping my
              Stacked shoulders,
My solitude,
              all at once.

The Hiss of Fossils

Africa is so arid.
We glide over Kenya, where I’ve never been.
The shrubby carpetweed and purslane clump;
outposts of savanna trees seen from our plane.

And the sudden grace of being airborne,
while just walking on clay-pack landfill,
a sunwashed track on a hillock of trash,
the exhilarant height from my head
to the ground,
returns me to that buried child,
diving most earnestly into play.