Poems for your reading pleasure.
“The Phoenix within”
My favorite poems bury
tension beneath beauty.
Komanyakaa’s exotic bird
hung on a thread
of dew, saving his skin
from being blown to bits.
Atwood stepped off the unpainted
porch into time before any of us
knew how to make
fire to keep love alive.
These lines lit
quiet little flames
inside me. For years,
unspoken poems lay
covered in ashes.
But when I’m beneath
you, I feel the phoenix
The weather man’s hair could withstand
winds up to sixty miles per hour.
We sit at opposite ends of the sofa
in silence, watching numbers
and people and facts. Minutes tick by.
I reach across the Gulf Coast and through
oil spills and town hall meetings for
I sent you the Lover’s Waltz back when
I told my mother how you made my heart
flutter like I was fifteen again, back before
anything had become real.
When the lines catch the sunlight
on your face, or you say my name back to me,
sometimes I hear that sweet little song,
Drowning out the numbers
and the noise and the people
and the news and the days
that we won’t remember anyway
When we’re lying beside each other
someday when we’re gray and quiet
and touching each other still
and singing that same song
because it matters.