Georgia: Dear Quiet
—dear curled blue--
how I’ve missed you.
I claim you again
—here in this tender puddle
—there--
in this spoon of moon
soft light, long night rising—.
Beyond
a whole street of chatter, back and forth—like the clicking
of branches—a rainstorm
slam shatter—shades raised--
those lit windows!
Just twist away--
—find refuge in a stone
that fits your fist.
After a long day of
students, questions, gossip
and the bank teller who believes you owe him
—talk—.
Don’t be deceived, sister.
You don’t owe
—that man--
any part of you.
You can live
curved
in your own
bone pocket
—all day--
if you want.
If he reaches in
—spin away.
Blue II
—dear curled blue--
how I’ve missed you.
I claim you again
—here in this tender puddle
—there--
in this spoon of moon
soft light, long night rising—.
Beyond
a whole street of chatter, back and forth—like the clicking
of branches—a rainstorm
slam shatter—shades raised--
those lit windows!
Just twist away--
—find refuge in a stone
that fits your fist.
After a long day of
students, questions, gossip
and the bank teller who believes you owe him
—talk—.
Don’t be deceived, sister.
You don’t owe
—that man--
any part of you.
You can live
curved
in your own
bone pocket
—all day--
if you want.
If he reaches in
—spin away.
Blue II