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Posts Tagged ‘clouds’


 
 
My father lies in his hospital bed,
eyes unseeing, unable to do more
than open and close his hand—
a wounded bird trying to fly—
his thoughts too wispy
to gather into sentences.
And then, quite clearly,
What is wrong with me?
I tell him, We don’t know.
And then, Is it my fault?
I want to gather him
into my arms and cradle him
the way he once cradled me.
No, Dad, I say. It’s not your fault.
You’re doing so good.
And then he is lost again,
cloud-minded, moaning,
his face a storm of pain.
 
Outside the window, the clouds
have lost their shape. The wind
pulls their thin white veil across the blue
like a translucent sheet.
In the coming days, there will be rain.
His eyes flash open, then close.
Hi, he says, his voice warm,
full of marvel. Hi, I say,
press my hands to his chest.
I’m pouring love into you, Dad.
He hums the little two-note song
he always hums in affirmation.
He is so beautifully himself.
Then you’re going to need—
His thought evaporates.
What do I need, dad?
I’m desperate for his answer.
What do I need to pour love into you?
He says, You’re going to need—
The sentence turns cirrostratus.
I kiss his head.
I kiss whatever went unsaid.
Neither of us knows what we need.
We hold each other and reach
for what we cannot hold.
Hands open, we wing into the moment,
into love, this sky where we meet.

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Because

 

 

Because the world is round, it turns me on.

            —The Beatles, “Because”

 

 

impossibly lissome

the clouds this dawn

long drawn and wind-spun and pink—

all morning making love

to their memory

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Not one puff,
not one wisp,
not one high
cirrocumulus,
no altostratus
no cumulus whorls
just blue, just blue
no cirrus swirls,
and could a girl
become a wing,
become a word,
or anything
that moves through blue
like arrow wood,
like zephyr, breeze,
I would, I would.

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