Saturday, March 2, 2013

small poems from early winter 2013

before my eyes
amaryllis plant blooms 
first dream in the new year

my neighbor's wind chimes
welcome in the new year — 
on another street
someone plays their saxophone
Georgia On My Mind

so low
the yew tree
after the snow

thoughts of an asymmetrical haircut 
tipping my head
to the left

swerving into the 
Kosher Foods aisle 
Grandma, I am thinking of you

my neighbor's sheets 
huge prayer flags in their side yard 
crows hover

we pass on the street 
her aging face 
I remember when she was born

she reminds me 
of someone I once knew —
I must remember that she is new

morning walk:
decomposing snowman —
barefoot girl in a summer frock

the crows — her departure
the crows — her return

a plain white sheet —
my neighbor is lonely

January morning
waiting for you —

midnight loneliness
drip drip drip drip drip

always remind me of you —
the way you offered them
in that blue bowl
the first time we met

I'm happy to share the bathroom with you
this cold night

in the snow —
morning crow

dear moon
I think I saw you 
shivering tonight

shoveling snow
under the full moon —
my neighbors seem friendlier

going through our changes
you and I
and the moon, too

fishing for the moon
one long cold evening

sweeping snow —
the broom loses strands of straw —
what do I lose?

for 22 years
I never looked up —
when I did
I found you,
dear moon

plastic plant 
on the side of the road
yes, it feels the cold 

snow —
just snow —
now here comes a crow

first its shadow
then the crow
swooping low

lazy day
watching icicles melt
nothing more

curious crow
eyeing my grocery bag
I watch you watching me

the way a mountain moves —
that's what I mean by
"slow kissing"

Flirtatious Moon
there you are
playing footsie with the stars

Rejuvenating Moon
when I feel old and tired
I look for you

Veiled Moon
alas — I don't yet understand
the language of eyes

Sneezy Moon
for you, an origami rose
made from a tissue —

Bewitching Moon
the window shades refused 
to shut you out last night

Snowy Day Moon
so lucky —
nobody expects you to shovel

Whispering Moon
come a little closer
I don't want to miss a word

Valentine Moon
a warm red glow
your way of sending roses —

Carnival Moon
I tried to warn you
about the roller coaster

3 a.m. Moon
you and I 
awake, together —
come down and snuggle

March Moon
as your heart opens
the birds return


A friend from the old neighborhood —
I call it "the old country" —
reminds me of what it was like, our childhoods

living under the same roof with dozens of other families
each behind its own apartment door

the connecting walls so thin
you'd hear a stranger sneeze

how safe it felt
how dangerous
anonymous togetherness

the collective inhale/exhale

the way we avoided eye contact in the elevator