Prologue: These Things

These things,

An asteroid belt  gracefully circling the sun.

These things each have their poles,

pulse magnetic,

Resonate in liquid nothingness.

These things,

lost along the riverbank.

Trunks and portmanteaus from shipwrecks

or abandoned,

Each painted and numbered

for identification.

These things,

Mothwinged.

Little household gods

that keen and ring always

when the light is quiet.

These things,

embrace the tremulous thought,

the eel that slips

between dark water.

These things,

shells in the surf,

clatter against the shore with every wave.

(The poet is a seashore dweller.)

Hold them.

Full of It

He lays back on the pillow

talking to the cracks in the ceiling,

"Ever wonder what the inside of your nose looks like?"

He rolls over and cranes her neck back for a look.

"Hey, stop it" she says playfully.

"Let me lick your eyeball."

"Oh, why?  Are you hungry?"

"Let me lick it."

She rolls her eyes and his tongue

flickers across her vision.

"What does it taste like?" she says, laughing.

"It tastes like butter."

She snuggles into his chest, 

"You are so full of it."

Full of what? he wonders.

July 26, 2018

image source

Stars

We lie nestled in the morning light
Knee to inner knee, our hands
Clasped over your hip.  You dream
And I study the freckles on your
Shoulder blades.
Galaxies in reverse, dark on light.
Is that the throne of Cassiopeia
Or Ursa Major?
The patterns dissolve
I only see a universe
For us to explore
Together.
I squeeze your sleeping hand.

Why a Crow

Why not her nobler relative, Raven? The all-knowing
Huginn and Muninn - Memory and Thought?
Odin's knowledge source soared now away into the blue.
Or maybe solemn Poe's prophet knocking at the door?
No, nor the Raven god worshipped where the forest drips
into the sea. Certainly not her clown kin, the Blue Jay!

My Mom heard them haggling in the garden,
not scared as they reproached the raggedy man
on sticks. She secretly loved their smart aleck nature,
smiled as she watched them wheel
across the open fields, foraging for treasure.

Crow.
A commoner Corvid,  still . . .
Dinosaur kin. The cleverest of birds.
Complex maker of tools, teacher of her
fledgling kids, creature of long memory.
Clear-eyed, ruthless, robber and collector.

She came to console Uncle Billy,
and with Brooks Hatlen
was set free.