***
at last
these are my favorite moments- clean and warm, and quiet
six ivory buttons to go and a needle between my teeth
norah jones coaxing sweetness into my cream kitchen
music to be so NoThing Wrong to
music to be so god d a m fond to
movement and rustling, but nothing like speech
still as honeycrisp forming on bread
calm as the crackle of joints in m y hea d
a shutter, a thread, a thousand tiny stitches
finally a different silence, p a t ii e nn c e
(you shoot the moon & miss completely)
summer rooms that still smell sweetly
it's just
thesea s o n
(& if i were a painter, and could paint a memory
/ if i were a painter, i would paint my reverie)
i have no control over my wrists
i have no memory of what i have missed
but everything cool and precise, is mine,
at
l a st.
(with no reprise, the sun will rise-
comeaway w i th m e)
***
No comments:
Post a Comment