Not long after he leaves
bundled in his fury, the soft mist like
twilight he leaves on my skin long
evaporated what’s left the hard line chainchoking
slither smoke numb, I dress myself anyway, quicken
my step to dress and pack the baby, sure all the same
of the lightness awaiting my day.
The weather coincides I am blown with it
out the door, it is feisty day,
iron skied a feisty sea, and beneath the quarrel in it
on the some brief moments
the wind whips die, there is clear, calm
reflection. A quiet benedictine sweet.
I am reminded of a poster I bought at an earlier Artscape
with Walsh. I am reminded of church steeples against
the alter of the night, orange blush and at least a cranberry
colored wind on the skin. Hot and cool like that, Baltimore is like that,
I am reminded of fireflies at dusk, berry stained foot bottoms & hazmat
can fires, the upper bay mudflats of the shore, the intoxicant salt seeped
deep enough to be bloodstream. I am reminded of Home.
On my drive back the bay is so many different shades
of midnight blue there are doors in it. It is a day in which
I spontaneously cry & laugh & feel good because I do.
The dog squeals at the door. This morning I walk
with the baby and dog to the creek
nervous the whole time the dog
on no leash. There is a rope we tug on
made of the different languages we speak
I mean the ones that the other/s do/es not understand.
It is dark in that creek. Roots of cypress rise like knees
or fingerless hands. It makes my knees weak. I think
about what a bridge would look like, the threads it would require
and tastles it would have to take, the movement of swinging boards
and also all that lies underneath.
KdadaB 