Boys and Men
Sinewy dreams filled
with blinding light.
Boys flexing, pulsing,
bragging, ambitious with life.
Men seeking shares of day,
shares of night.
Dreams of boys and men carry me
toward a land of dip and lift
where boys like men like me
bound and soar on good days,
and on bad days struggle to stand straight
and still.
Rocket Science
It was the different leaves
of a different tree
rustling in the wind
a millennium ago.
Or a millennium ahead,
as if now and then mattered.
I was the first woman to say no,
or the next,
as if refusing to be property
set some kind of record.
But this is my story of yes,
of laying myself down
on my cushion of gathered moss.
Of laying myself
between earth and sky
while a swell of crickets
kissed the breeze around us.
Our hearts fluttered with the rise
of a second swell and soared
with the music of different birds
in the different bushes nearby.
To this man I did say yes,
yes, as his breath feathered my thighs.
Hunting by scent, arriving at the
place of my dawning, of his awakening,
briefly converging,
the trembling dream of ancestors,
in the moment eternal.
Coming together at a bonfire
of youth and passion,
the fluid crescendo
of our merge and merge, again,
briefly forgetting she who I alone will deliver
(though she will one day launch
poems to the stars).
We sang to each other.
Applause Is Overrated
Of all the workouts,
this run down by the
river of our downbeat,
this stretching of the heart
muscle, this reaching for
who you were, for how you
are now, for the nature of your
next epiphany,
is only the beginning
of me here thinking about
you ready
to play
the game you find
yourself in now. This is how
you fill the outline of all you
meant to be,
willful and wilding,
a minute late and a step too far.
You get up, and you go,
you go girl, live this day
and fuck the
deafening silence.
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