November 17, 2006 at 3:38 PM

at night when it is raining
and the sky is orange haze from the city
the blue specks of streaking blink
are they vision
or the anger I was forgetting about today?

the purr furry in my chest
I know she is inside
the love she knows
and chirps.
is that the slow time of my baby
or is it the love I try to remember
about today?

the soft blanket rubbing my feet
scratchy heels against warm wrap
taking me into the swirling fall of
a deep sleep dark
is that music I hear or voice
randomly wording unconsciousness?
or is it the crazy left over from today
that I try to creep away from
(with beethoven or mahler
that hummed through last week)
and I was able to share, at last?

and when morning sneaks up
without warning or crisp-
dulling for hours of wheezy and
queazy until eyes blink wide
numbness parts-
it is tomorrow again?

can I start it without the streak of light
rubbing eyes too hard of itch
red and binding at the edges?
can the question end and finality
brim to the top of my hands-
bumps of bone stretch straight and free,
sky greyed down from peach
in daytime when it is raining.

what is there to push against?
purr and wrap into,
but the floating gusts
of another day great after great.

fly-feather bow drawn like spherical graphite
marks in contrast up
contrast down
it is the air in between contact
that makes beethoven day and play out loud…

and not a sound forgotten, remembered,
and shared with merely the cuddle of my own warmth
under fleece and aged cotton.
JW

From Terez Mertes
Posted on November 17, 2006 at 7:01 PM

Jennifer - just as I started reading this, a really cool piece of music started playing (kind of New Age-y, movie soundtrack style). And it worked SO perfectly with your poem, it gave me chills.

Nice job.

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