March 28, 2018
2 Comments
It’s Going to Be a Beautiful Day
Cat’s hours crouching for a mouse
in the kitchen under the dishwasher
maybe most of night I think as
making coffee to Sun Ra
Miles Davis plays in a silent way
Our hanging crystals in the window
hint at the day’s sparkling potentialities
Sunday a.m. moment between here
and there’s doorway where
light glows from ebb of ember
“Every Sunday’s Easter,” I think
and God responds with a magnificent
spread of light on our dirty window
calling and responding
Husband sees it too, says oo
Then sun goes away, “How dare
that sun go away,” he says, and then
“but actually it didn’t go away
the clouds merely blocked it,
right?”
And they lived happily ever after’s
embroidered on our pillow I tell him
“OK, fair enough,” he says.
–
A silence presses my ear, which is startled
at the quick and subtle answer from
an unexpected calculator taking note
The vastness of roar and silence
leaves one to a soup of thought,
worked over flagellation
“How are you?” husband asks, and I’m
keen now to leaving myself a comfortable mote
in the torrent
Our guppy quivers in the tank, the male guppy
her ever-present satellite, the banner
of his hippie tail happy to be near her
–
On our early morning soundtrack choirboys sing
sober remnant whispers of vespers
Traffic splashes in the early morning spring dark
the aftermath of rain’s laid diamonds
on our storm window
–
When the deal goes down
gonna sit here, before dawn
fishtank light on, our ever-present
Christmas lights silently festive
no computer on my lap,
listen to Chet Atkins chirping
to our slowly twirling
window crystals
The muffled tick of husband’s recliner
he shifts position and crunches
his early a.m. cashews
Black cat wanders cheerful
in the dark