I am naked here,
arms stretched wide.
I’ve removed my apron,
my soles are rooted,
sandals tossed aside—
shaking my papery skins
of ochre, amber, umber,
deep chestnut brown
whistling down
as autumn storms
cause them to do
a little tune,
wild and flush,
like milk, like honey,
like money, or better—
the sound
of the storm-crested
rustling of two.
How cozy that morning
when the deer were in the yard
at daybreak,
soft glow from a book light,
coffee cup in hand.
How forgettable
after all that’s passed—
when the floors heaved
and rocks grew up through the boards.
When everything shook,
even the air rippled too warmly
around my head,
my ears hammering,
tuned in to ghosts
screeching in the hollow, to
the scream that
happens before the crash and echoes
ever after,
when my veins stopped
cold,
flatlined,
in the bite
of
your
words.
surrounded
by magenta petunias
and my friday night lights
it’s patio-perfect in spring
my footfall
and yours
tiptoeing
past the snoring
winter wolf moon
turned pink
—and the little clink
our glasses make
to toast
the sun-drenched, fresh
summer
we’ve palmed
of our lives
For dVerse Quadrille #199: T.G.I.F.
NPM Day 15