My Grandfather's Portrait

grandfather

upright on the shelf,

polished

dust-less -

by care of his youngest girlchild.

Stern

and mustachioed

in a way that conceals

his lips,

any smile,

any semblance of a shiver

not that it would

ever quiver

Nor would he ever

shiver

Or shake

Feb 28, 2013

yogi hangover

happy trail all a ruffle

gin and

            hops and

you and me

still on my tongue. i smile

a little too softly

let my eyes glaze

over with new ideas.

bad idea.

in ceremony i say go,

            bye!

thanks

for letting me watch you

stretch

you

for lessons on one night

stand still (in) the morning rays

dance on your chest

on my shoulder

where you’d soon place your parting words

            so long

take care and

            blessings upon you

let poetry guide you

            may the calm of the yogi wash over

like the chiming of brass bowls

find comfort among the swirling smoke gyres

of sweet incense.

        i would watch you downward dog all

day. half pigeon me to zendom.

 

i could laugh at the way

the moon and the bartender

play tricks on me.

no scent on my pillow

no sorting of silly words

no sifting through

          

this is just 

what i get for diving too deep

            and tipping too little.

Evenings with You

You put me to bed

And your voice

Like smoke

Warm

Fills my nose

Wrapping itself

Up into me

Until I am gasping for breath

Calling your name

Both to stop you

and to urge you

For with you

I am constant

In a state of

Caprice

and weak with thirst.

January 2013

Somanona

for Francesca

the click click of your wedge heeled boots

percuss the concrete in a rhythm he can’t

bop his head to. your high bun perches where

his too short arms cannot reach. he hangs

from the silver ring in your flared wide open

nostril swaying in the gentle exhales above

your frosted bumptious lips. to kiss those bumptious

lips again he would call like he promised, dedicate

a remix to you. call it ms. brown skin, my chestnut

queen on patchouli street. sample a south African

drum beat and hope it makes you think of Lagos

long enough to need to be held, cuddled, comforted

but not long enough to put you on a flight back

home. the elongation of your vowels stroke his earlobes,

sends a shiver up to his elbow, a twitch in his flour dusted

trousers. he thinks his goods would be better with a sweetener extracted

from your voice. if only he could tap into you. 

New Year's Eve

Face to window

back to the darkened room

he holds a cigarette between 

two fingers

sits a stemless wine glass on the sill.

He inhales nicotine

exhales the taste of me in a sour cloud 

of smoke.

Beside his foot, moonlight nudges 

the sequins on my dress and I can see 

his face, his mouth in a half smile.

From beneath the sheets

I watch his shoulders sway 

in the shadows

I bite my bottom lip to fight residual 

tremors.

I inhale his scent from the chilled

 pillowcase and hold my breath, 

keeping him inside. 

Fruit

You placed a penny in my palm

I tried to plant it in my chest

The fruit it bore

was sickly sweet

with thorns the size of cupids’ arrows

When I brought you

a basket full,

with my bloody finger tips,

nonsense words began

to fall from your lips.

My name came out in stutters

amidst some jokes about a green thumb,

a misplaced apology,

a smile reminiscent of the ones

you used to give me

(I picked that up and put it in my pocket),

an offering of flour

so I could bake a pie,

a cough,

a glance over my shoulder

a glance at your wrist where you’ve never worn a watch,

a less familiar smile I’ve only seen you give to strangers,

an unsolicited laugh,

some excuse about a work meeting,

a hug with too much space inside, a see-ya-soon you didn’t mean, a soon that never came, a soon that never came, a soon that never came a soon that never came a soon that never came a soon that never
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Playing with Giants

In his giant fingers, she was like a child playing helicopter. Between his pointer and thumb he spun her, a wilting magnolia flower plucked from its tree. Her petals reached out sideways grasping for something to grip onto - another body to help her balance, anything to keep her from being propelled into the air without destination for this giant was unpredictable. He would either crush her between his calloused finger pads or let her fall to the ground.