Tag Archives: NaPoWriMo

The Coy Wife

after Annie Finch

At times I can lament my youth
when body smooth and taut did prove
itself blind to age and the passage of Time
when words o’er ran the banks of meter and rhyme
and verse came flawlessly free and streaming.
Now the babies, crying then squealing
with delight and true frustration;
we are swamped with operation:
Family Life.  So now it comes
to this sweet blog, moments of love’s 
action and age unfolding in these
intangible pages.  What does it mean
to find ourselves still writing, still loving,
still talking, working, seeking, moving
through the years?  Me and you:
we grasp Time’s song and sing it through. 

the inefficiency of love

I stand in front of a full sink,
my leg inches from the dishwasher’s open door,
and lean over the racks to add a glass.
You are cutting a half circle behind me with a hand full
of forks and spoons, dropping water, marking our path.
We lean and wait, and wait and bow,
letting each other pass
while water sprays the coffee machine,
and coats the counter, and
dampens the bottoms of our feet.  
But then I turn
as you reach and
for less than a moment
my skin knows the warmth of yours.

 

For David, After Mass on Donut Sunday

Our cheeks rub together,
we are nose to nose,
you grab my hands, my face,
and kiss me from your toes!

Our voices sing together,
Yours much louder than mine;
Your song brings me solace,
and much more joy than wine.  

I consider the way we face the days,
and how at nights I tuck you in;
tomorrow we’ll meet another sun,
a chance to let love in.