1. april fools (LIX)
it’s friday again
and also
snowing
the birds breathe fire
and singe the cat’s hair
and i’m finally able
to say:
spring
(but no one hears me)
…
it’s friday again
and also
snowing
the birds breathe fire
and singe the cat’s hair
and i’m finally able
to say:
spring
(but no one hears me)
…
i threw away all the curtains
because i want to see everything
i’ve grown old on a mantle of marble
i’ve breathed love into statues of stone
i wrapped grey over hard faded rainbow
because gold is the color of own
…
the day starts
with
tea and sunshine
rye and wheat
mess and murmur
that’s it
that’s all there is
…
time winds down
and i think of hours
minutes
days
spent
chopping slicing dusting folding sweeping typing
designing walking rinsing eating reading roaming
washing preparing gathering weeding building
sorting sifting scrubbing changing twisting
staring at sky
loving
living
i built a new corner
and walked straight into it
left the paint on the floor
drying
held my arms high and my head straight
buried the forgotten
forgave the remembered
worshiped nothing
but silence
and the tenacity
of trees
throwing spring green buds
into air
like so much
confetti
the taste of tea and whispers of envy
smells of green and cinnamon
rolling through a harbor of unbalance
too late too much too early too little
promises skitter in every dark corner
wallflower flower built for keeping
pressed between pages
hidden bouquet
squirrel fight
dove coo
blue jay belligerent
.
skin soaking up sun
anti mirror
wide smile
prismatic
.
desiderata
forgotten
.
and she walked
the center line
straight past the pond
of forgiveness
.
dipping one toe in
the cold is brutal
still
this is where i live
now
old and grey
and somewhat silent
no one cares
except when I creak
sitting alone
in my sun-filled corner
i have always had grey cats
a favorite color
in a tiny life
lived beneath every rainbow
where the bluebirds bring me sky
and I am just a figment
of a girl’s imagination
holding court
at the laundresses
tea party
and you are the shadow
of my joy
…
and i’ll show you a seed
left to dry in an envelope
or an avalanche of words
dropped cold on a doorstep
or a curtain barely moving
in a window filled with need
…