Three Poems (2009-10)

love poem (2009)

i was digging in wet sand

scoff, scoff, the shovel sighed

until i hit the water

and a stone

i had seen it before

it was milky white

i felt its edges

it was smooth

i remembered then

when i once

held this rock closer

to my heart

when i first found this

particular rock, it was

on the sidewalk as i was

looking down

i was walking

tripping on my own

feet scanning

the pavement

there it was

i took it home

kept it on my nightstand

there it was every night

and i could not fall asleep

every day there it was

on the table

in front of me

and i could not eat

i went alone to dinner once

i took that rock with me

and the whole night was silent

because a rock cannot talk

and a sane person

cannot talk

to a rock

so the rock tossed me aside

tossed me casually

onto the pavement

where i would sit and cry

with pebbles tumbling

down my cheeks

i was picked up

by a shale shard

and it showed me

my way home

i took the shard in my pocket

and it did not say Thank You

or I Love You

but i kept it close

later it tossed me

onto a beach–-

where i last saw it–-

and now i sit and dig and dig

not knowing what i will find

i am digging in wet sand

scoff, scoff, the shovel sighs

until i hit the water

and a small moon rock

i turn the moon rock in my hands

slow-motion picture, how a good dream ends–-

a pearl in my fingers,

smoothed by the sand

i looked closely at it

and there it was written:

Take Me Home.

the coffee felt good on a hangover (2009)

the coffee felt good on a hangover

the waves pounded silently on the shore

the frost congealed on the café window

the coffee was too hot for the cold day

my dry red fingers laced around the paper cup

your pulled the string on your tea bag

the coffee burned the feeling out of my tongue

you looked at me and your eyes were red

the coffee grew cold.

"slow day for a saturday."

i nodded, it was a slow day for a saturday

my heart pounded silently in my chest

and the earth began to tilt

we are home, i feel (2010)

the seed in your fruit

my arms stretch through soil

i feel alive

folded in your fingers

folded in the wings

i feel safe

strange syllables, we are

built to fit a language

the tongues' fluid motion

we are 

spoken