Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Off


I wish holding the baby had been enough, 
or the great conversation with Kate, 
who is so smart and so not-eighteen, 
though she is eighteen, completely. 
I wish making the two quiches would have 
been enough, too.  The bacon
and all of that cheese surely should 
have been enough.  Or the breeze, 
even though it was once attached 
to tornados.  That should have done it. 
And Sheridan dancing and sliding 
in the middle of my kitchen. 
Even the way Adrian made me laugh.
The songs!  The poetry play songs 
zipped through the internet to me.
The good notes, the too-high notes, 
the too-low notes and the whistling.
They should've done the trick.
Even this rain I now hear whipping 
up the trees, finally pouring down 
on us after a stretch of torrid days. 
But nothing has flipped the itchy switch, 
nothing has settled the leeward sway.  
I am longing for my kilter, my footing,
my plumb.  My nails aren’t growing
fast enough for my chew.  At night,
I dream of running, then jumping
off lighthouses into rough water. 

1 comment:

  1. My words will not work for me tonight. But know, KNOW that your words are being heard, being felt, being received and understood and taken in and held in the way they deserve. In the way YOU deserve.

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