Fresh-woken feet on a cool, wooden floor coffee table like glass when they're gone.
she snags its centerpiece and spills onto the dewy lawn still bare-bodied,
she's reaching for blue plums from a rusty folding chair on tip-toes one arm warming
the ceramic bowl against her skin all around green fields unfold for miles.
in the barn air-drifting dust sparkles gold or hides braiding Sally's palomino mane,
eye to large, trusting eye galloping down to the pond, where, as a child, she
stick-split the stems of venus fly traps and robbed their insides for her bug-mash mud pies.
standing barefoot in the garden for lunch eating tomatoes like apples, seeing
the greenest baby snake slip under the eggplants seeing Sally munch impatiens
from the hanging baskets on the porch thinking I might sweep the porch...
in the fields she forgets, throwing her tiny sillouette against the slow-swelling, sunken sun
tomato sandwich supper on porch-steps... no chickens to snatch up discarded crusts.
fleeting, fairy tale time behind green glass. hanging between dusk and dark.
lightening bug warning, sudden shiver, and she's gone from the field Sally watches
one by one the shades drawn starless black settles in, but all night long
the house glows and glows, searching for lost ships.
a backdrop of white buildings each distinct
between the green of trees below the barely
even blue above. Where are you going
Mr. Baggage Man I am holding out my purse
for you to take I have no weapons why
do I find myself in a chair with a metal
detector between my legs he takes off
my shoes and through the lines of people
and the ticket takers and the armed forces
I see you laughing and watching like
maybe I amuse you, do I? that�s good�
underwear model on a billboard
in New York City man that�s big time you should
be so proud. Maybe one day you�ll take me
to Philadelphia to see the liberty bell
and I will take your beautiful
daughter on walks did you know
It was my own little girl I always saw
sliding down into your arms.
Nov. 10, 2004
What he came to tell us was the truth,
Some cried you see in black and white! He said, I do,
When there are just those two.
Rows and rows of baby sponges,
they were five years old, reciting praises.
One sunny day he crossed a border with his
careful mother, saw a picnicker who offered him
a sandwich. He took it smiling, but his mother
snatched it, spitting, they are poison!
A girl fell in front of a car, and lay dazed
While the driver held her hand and called help!
Nearby a blind man stood on a balcony,
Eyes blank as stones since birth,
Waving a cane screaming, I saw it!
I saw it, he did it on purpose, he did!
The crowd responded in riot.
He ran to the crowd with a bomb on his back.
Saw himself approaching the gates of Heaven
Bearing their skulls.
Forget the issue of land occupation.
They have occupied the minds of an entire generation.
This morning, he said, he ran to the window
and saw the wall was wailing.
When I remember Sevilla I think
of orange trees that line the streets
where scruffy men sell salted meats
jamon serrano, chorizo, salchicho,
flamenco dancers, jerking sultry,
low tucked roses, Spanish rosy
wine and sherry, en la calle,
these things kept me busy, happy
On the plane I'd cried not knowing
an orange-scented city waiting,
only you in the airport holding
on to my empty coffee cup, crying.
I'll write this like I want
With no regard
For demand, or for
What's done or new
I can not think of you
Nor cater too much to your views
(that's something i tend to do).
Picture a shiny pink pig
Gleaming clean and fed to fat
Standing, tail quivering,
At a vitamin trough
Eating what he's supposed to
This is my own issue
I don't blame you.
Did you enjoy the image?
Here's the one I really wanted to write about
Me in a crowded coffee shop in New York
Buying an extra boost
Turning to you, seeing, seen
Beyond anything
I ever wished they knew.
Once, we sat together in our parents� jacuzzi until one a.m. after two bottles of boone�s farm (country apple) on ice, and she grabbed my hand and said, �Laurie, I find myself in one of two places and never in between:
�I can run in ecstatic circles under a sunny sky, stopping every two seconds to admire
how I�ve arranged my flowers, and fueling my every step with visions of my future family and I riding the Peter Pan ride at Disney World. Or,
�I�m sitting at the bottom of the ocean. It�s cold and dark. There aren�t even any fish.�
She finished and lowered her eyes. I said, �Ruth you just hold on one sec.�
I rushed inside and back out with my Bible. I opened it randomly and put my finger down just like they taught us in Sunday school.
Whether we are high above the sky, or in the deepest ocean, nothing in creation will ever separate us from the love of God.
I held my breath in sacred silence. �Wow,� said Ruth. �That�s some coincidence.�
I counted her fingers in my hand silently, and my sister�s eyes lightened as we remembered the possum on the porch, how Sam lit its tail on fire and then tore out after it across the front lawn in his boxers.
�Yeah,� said Ruth, �I still see that possum, hiding behind Momma�s potted plants. Its tail just sticking out in plain view.� She started sniffing again. �Like an ostrich, she said. That�s what I kept thinking of. An ostrich with its head in the sand.�
A freshly greased man sells princesses and pears.
He glances up from his work and says wisely:
Talk politics from the safety of his arms.
Remember your debut at age five, fidgeting
under the hot holy light amid a chorus of Silent Night,
You cried God Bless America!, Lady, done in poor taste.
Jim Dear and Darling, a puppy, picture it.
He�ll read to the kid by the fireplace, dress you in fancy lace,
worship your head and your heart and that face.
What you seek, I must say, is much too brilliant and rare,
and more costly, I�m afraid, than what you�d be willing to pay.
Harry the Hippo and Larry the Mouse
You're wondering right now about Harry and Larry
You think that they're funny, you don't suspect scary
But honey I'm sorry, you're wrong if you think
That they're safe, they're like Mexican water, a drink
That you don't want to have cause you don't have the worms
In your tummy, that water will make it do turns
Such are Harry and Larry, they'll get you real good
When you're minding your business like you know you should
they are watching and waiting to replace your noodles
With tapeworms, your chipped beef with chipped baby poodles.
So lock up your doors tonight, pray you're not cursed
Make the kids sleep outside so they'll be gotten first
And then say a quick prayer for your sad little life
And for Harry and larry who mean you no strife
That's right honey I made up this whole freaking lie
Ain't no harry nor Larry you ain't gonna die.
Somewhere, you wait for us smiling and calmly lighting the candles,
pulling a batch of something out of the oven and letting it cool slowly
opening the door before we raise our hands to knock.
II
Someone was slamming a car door and running to catch up,
dropping a tear of paper, the wind snatched it up.
She was hurrying home through flurries of leaves and trash,
shoved into her foyer, door slammed behind her.
A pot of potatoes boiling on the stove,
a ruby, sangiovese streak,
humming and holding a basket of towels,
a tear of paper stuck in her hair.