Thursday, March 29, 2007

About Bread (maybe)

Sunshine from southern windows
invades my efficient (read tiny)
red kitchen

I feel the heat
rise in my body
as I press and push
this warm yeasty mound
the floury surface

Knead more
he said
for a better loaf
and it is for him
I make the effort
the man who grew up
with only the homebaked stuff
no quick rise
instant yeast
for his sister
the "conscripted mother"

Sunny days and
warm kitchens
work best for
yielding brown
rounded rooftops
of homebaked brilliance

And I dream
another kitchen
with another man
and think
of all the goodness
that awaits
for him
for me

Because I really
meant it
that Sunday night
on his couch
when I whispered
It gives me
great pleasure
to please you
in every way

Tuesday, March 20, 2007


Seeing them last week
on the subway
reminded me
how compelling I find
their language
an encapsulated world

Hands flying
all a-flurry
saying everything
they want to say
in full public view
but completely obscured
from us

They speak true
all body
all language

How can they hide
or be covert
when their bodies
betray their meaning

But you must look
more closely
we all reveal
sometimes just a ripple
of the underlying reality

The twitch of a finger
almost imperceptible
curl of lip
glance of eye
or failure
to react
we give it all away

Pay attention to the telling

Thursday, March 08, 2007


How my back
that dry rift above my scapula
aches to be enwombed

I have a sense of you
the sum of your parts
cradling hands
with spring in your veins

The bend at your knee
tendon line climbing over your crouched form
the slight swell of your forearm
hovering above that pale spot

How can this be so clear
with your face every before me
yet unrecognizable

The Wait - Alone

My sadness at your absence
is ever near
The lights flicker and
you should be here

I want to see the waft of your steam
rise as you towel yourself

Hear your low hum as you groom
taste the newly smooth skin of your cheek

This evening
we prepare to welcome our friends
into the warmth of our love