Potential

My teacher says that when you break a cup
it's best to think of it as having been
a broken thing before you picked it up.
Illusory, the wholeness it was in.

Beneath the metal's sheen was always rust;
the dream was dead the moment it was born.
The stars were never more than colored dust,
my feelings for you never more than torn.

It hits me as I see that you are calling:
you see rose where I see petals falling

Indecision Cycle: poem 1

what I do know
is that that sh
irt sitting on top of
those other shirts
needs to be just sl
ightly farther
to the left and
just slightly farther
back toward the--
back of the closet

it feels so much
righter there

especially after I
pat it three times
with the tips
of two fingers

actually,
four times

actually five

Tomorrow

If I were not me I'd be sleeping now
but me I am and so awake I stay.
My slowing thoughts bespeak the undertow
that pulls to bed and then another day,

but I drift aimless high above its reach;
my mind befuzzed does not react to sense,
and I'm more like to swim right back to beach
than give my soul and body recompense.

And so the tide I know I should pursue
recedes without me every night anew.

Turntail

us as semirandom planedots
in softly scattered existence
is not enough I want to turn
tail scurry back under the
security of covers where
tandem ribcage risefalls
are a meditation on that
we are together definitely
together finitely together de-
finitely together together together

Cleaning #4

I fold the Shabbos
tablecloth in half
the embroidered side
interior along with
the crumbs of today

fold it in half again
lay it over the back
of a kitchen chair think
What if I could fold
you as well

into the topside
of this tablecloth
take you home
unfold you next
Shabbos in my

own kitchen

Cleaning #3

I am careful
about which books
I let touch

each other Partly
out of respect partly
out of fear of crossed

boundaries They won't keep
to themselves, you see,
unless I make sure of it

They'd share secrets at night
be different in the morning

Mixed, you know, and unsure
what religion to raise the kids

Slowcooker

The best thoughts
are the ones that form
along the edges after years
of de and re composition dark
and savory their histories
no longer discernible

Comfort

is two lovers
knowing they look
out their windows
at the same moon

is two estranged
persons knowing
they pray toward
the same God

Winter wondering

Each placement
of foot on icy
path a hesitant
calculation

Gloved hands at
the ready tongue
between teeth eyes
downcast thoughts

of Maybe I'd have
tread upon you
a bit more
gently

would've been more
ginger with what
I was doing
to you had I

realized it's not
only when I'm
afraid of slipping

that I need to look

Can't see

My skin glows like the lake at nightfall
My hips are round and
smooth as riverstones my
hair is like gazelles like
waterfalls my elbows
like swans' curved necks

My hands have turned to
furled blooms my lips
to moonbeams and what
have you done with my
eyelashes so dark and
velvety I can't see
anything but your
affection

Strip the animals the
plants the nature
from me let me be
human to you
Put away your pen

It is not necessary
not here
not now


(after reading the first two chapters of
Shir haShirim, the Song of Songs)