watching the way you peeled an onion
hiding tears in a scented candle
rose-sandlewood-something when really
it was the smell of smoke you hoped to hide
long after you’d quit and we both knew
it was him again
lingering in places you’d already scoured
as i peeled carrots, chopped celery, sliced
a moon down the side of one finger
before either of us noticed it was raining
and you were gone
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)
…
twenty years later
that’s what we call it
not nine eleven oh one
not September 11, 2001
just
nine eleven
two words
three digits
two towers
four planes
thousands
of
mothers
fathers
daughters
sons
sisters
brothers
wives
husbands
aunts
uncles
girlfriends
boyfriends
not statistics
falling
from
the
sky
not dates
or where were you’s
just whole hearts
in odd numbers
each one
the only necessary
evidence
of love
::
.
.
.
the world is on fire
stop what you’re doing
no
stop
nothing is fair and the sky is lit
broken
stop
listening
smiling dancing and buying
stop building hiding
breathing
complaining
stop spinning
stop spilling
stop drilling
for rain
i’m an ocean of echo
on the tilt-shift of dragon
i am gold and philosophy
still and bespoken
i am school with no student
blinded by billow
i’m the cloud of refrain
in a field of forgotten
stop
clumsy and violent
in our destruction
carnivore
herbivore
sure-footed-thunder
bearing down
on no future
the world is burning (turning)
turning (burning)
bleak mornings
endless nights
fear stirred by anxiety’s spear
searching for hope
in a world
already scarred
(scared)
i have a pebble
to offer
worthless
polished
smooth
by worry
set high on a shelf
worn
whole
silent
waiting
.
.
.
nothing and everything
left behind
pain on pane
swift angel of morning
dusty dove
winged evidence
ethereal
mercurial
captured
…
herding blue and green
through the fast moving symphony
of spring
black birds
dot the sky
b flat
e minor
g sharp
notes of hunger
and freedom
spelled with stump
and fury
at being
left
behind
off key
and obbligato
…
sunrise manifests
in shades of grey
a tinge of pink
filtered through a jar
left too long
on a too full counter
just because
you love
the shape
of shadow
…
blue sky, day dry
another loop of miles, smiles,
burning, yearning
false flock
getting ready
to fly
…
