Friday, May 1, 2015

Days 29 & 30

I wrote two 
poems 
to close 
out the month,
but to quote 
my friend
in poetry, these 
are "private 
poems," so 
I will keep
them close 
until I'm 
ready to let 
them fly
Thank you
for reading 
this April's 
deluge. I 
had fun 
I hope you 
did, too. 
Until next 
year, if not 
before, xo
Catherine

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Day 28

Paint peels from the closet
door - and my daughter's shoes
stain brown from adventures
in muddy puddles. The vase
is chipped as is our IKEA china,
marked as if ravenous babies bit
the porcelain. The glasses chill
with vein slits along their sides 
as if rainwater etched tiny memories 
in the glass. And your face shows wear
from smiling - lines open like sun
rays from the corners of your eyes.
And I can't say I mind this,
the way my veined hand still finds
yours in darkness, how my bruised
shin brushes against your hardware-
repaired ankle, the way our ruined 
bodies sing each other's soul
song, then fall away.

Day 27

We stop for ducks & peacocks,
pedestrians & bikers. We stop
for signs, for clouds that pile
like bowling balls & clouds that streak
the sky, for auspicious rainbows,
for sunrise & sunset. We pause 
before a thought comes racing in,
before a line, before metaphor. We
pause when the heart meets
its own animal. In forgetful times,
small things stop us like the need 
to find a clean tea towel or 
to nail down the next image 
that wanted to show up
in this line but got lost in curlicues
of thought & larger things 
like doctor appointments &
to gather lint from the dryer
before it stops working. We connect 
remnants & toast left in the toaster
oven as our minds burn up, 
thoughts waft in, thoughts here 
like smoke, then gone.

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Day 26

Quiet toes and knobby 
ankle bones, four corners, 
heels and soles, rough, 
blackened, and split
scaled skin - almost reptilian,
more than my workhorses, 
more than my mules, 
they've held more 
than one body, 
and accumulated time,
traveled up mountains 
and down shorelines, 
grown new and soothed 
tender skin, kept
peel in place. Uncensored, 
if they could speak, 
I don't know if they'd curse 
like sailors or sing 
like the angels. More
than jump or pounce, more
than run or dance. More 
than lease, the roots 
they grip, a shifting 
foundation, they think fast
to carry the body compass
over changing terrain. 
My feet lead me 
beyond fear, sometimes 
they move this go-go-go 
body in directions 
I cannot name,
and into futures that I -
with my head buried
in lists and other
abstractions - 
never saw coming.

Day 25

Although they
came curved,
my hips 
were stick-like,
thin parentheses,
home to 
a hinge,
a ball-&-socket,
synovial joint, 
one that 
moves bone 
to sway
and shashay, 
one that sings 
open. Mine 
came on 
a linear 
frame. Mine, 
a narrow 
isthmus through 
which  - 
in the dream
that edits
itself in 
my sleep, 
& erases 
tension, which 
is what the 
ladies need 
in order
to expand, 
this, the answer
to their 
every riddle, 
the key 
to their door -
three heads
three souls
did serenely 
pass.

Day 24

We were teaching again, making up
hand signals for a language only 
a few people would ever understand,
And we were laughing until the sun
broke the day in two, and you swore
up and down you had to leave -
and isn't that life like? This is always
where the dream ends - or, rather, 
where it wants to end - but where I
want this poem to stop is back 
at the scene where we're laughing. 
Put that track on repeat, then cut.

Day 23

We walked through sepia-toned water
that was packed with crocodiles.
To say we walked would be a misstatement -
we danced or we tiptoed as if crossing
an electric fence. As in so many jokes,
our goal was the other side. The reasons why,
and just what was on the other side,
were elusive and maybe beside
the point. The ancient reptilian maze
we twirled through was just our obstacle -
one of the mind, maybe - so I willed myself
to say, The crocodiles aren't here -
and that thought lifted us like helium
balloons.  We flew over the tic-tac-toe
board of crocodiles to the next island,
which I can only assume was greener.