Friday, July 22, 2005


When Erica says
I am feeling myself and jovial
I think of the orange

Tipped trees between
The buildings out
My window, their penknife

Leaves grazing like air-bound anemones
Haunted by the jellyfish
Forms of black plastic bags, today

My love turns another
Year older, youth
Though she is, her kind, fooling blue

Eyes kindle wonder and I find
Myself wishing for her
Happiness more often even

Than my own, a picture
Of the crest of her
Back in my mind, her sheepish

Smile tremoring the air
Into joyous throbs, the song
Says 'all the bleeding

Drums, celebration guns' and somewhere
She is drinking guaro, dark
Plaits of hair striating her already

Reddened face, I search
The pages of a Medical Encyclopedia
For images, place a diabetic

Within the coils of a Child-Headed
Blengin, her hand missing
A finger, the afternoon free

From employment, 'every breath
Death defying', so I go
Nowhere, make too much

Coffee, read a biography of Warhol
Call my dad, mull over
Health insurance, stretch out

On the couch and thrill
At the idea of my love’s impending
Touch, the plain

Of my chest pale beneath
Its T-shaped turf
Of curly hair, would that bodies

Could rearrange themselves
Like thought, that these gangly
Arms were telescoping

To where you are, the way
My eyes run over
The geography of where you were

And will be come Monday.

1 comment:

doejohn69 said...


you are my favorite young poet.

xo, erica