Milkwash
If you connected the dots of the falling
Snow, you would find silence like
A gray Pearl. Even the wind
Would go still, in that moment.
And you would see her standing there,
A flickering blue flame in a wasteland of white.
She would be the color of will-o-the-whisps and ice
Lace and forget-me-nots; when the snow
Fell she would gather it in her hands and
Sew it into cradle caps for half-sleeping birds.
Do you see her? She wears a ghost-skin,
And wraps it around herself as tight
As she can. The only color
In this blank of white, she stands there,
Resolute and thin and cold,
A burning figure under this
Open milkwash sky.
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Ode to my Yellow Peacoat
I wear my ochre yellow peacoat
Like a pair of painted wings,
I spread my arms and I do not
Even have to flap my wings —
The air takes me up in its arms
And watches me fly. The black swirl
Buttons are almost formidable because
They never blink, and when they do,
It’s only when you were blinking, too.
They shine like eyes in love, like secret sides of
White-hot stars we never get to see.
The fabric pills and gathers at the elbows like
The folds of a golden rose, brighter
Than the faces of the sunspots on the wall.
There are worn wrinkles, but they smile at me,
So I smile back at them. Together, we outbeam
The very sun above our heads.
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And thus we take on the world,
My yellow peacoat and I.
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Dreamscape
The greenblack lake curled in on itself,
A wide ribbon glinting in the afternoon light,
Until a wave rose up churning like a
Thousand paper scrolls and threw itself
With all its might at the shore. Strangely,
When it hurtled at us, we did not move —
All it did was curve noiselessly under the glass
Windows and the wooden porch where we sat.
I thought for a minute that something must
Be wrong, because underneath the planks
Of the floor under our rocking chairs
Were upside-down umbrellas floating in the
Foamy seascum, swirling and swelling
Like children of that great strange breathing
Thing we call the Water. And still we just
Sat there eating crumpets and buttered bread,
Wiping the corners of our mouths and not
Talking to each other. We went on watching
To see if another big wave would come,
And at that point I knew something
Strange must be going on because all at
Once, we put our cups up in the air and
Poured the tea all over our heads —
To be warmer, perhaps, or because
If we did not believe in scalding,
It would not happen.