On the day I finally
outlive your days, I'll
wake to leaf fire
sunlight
peeling eucalyptus
and room enough to drown in.
But I'll still float above your kitchen-talk
in rooms of broken English.
What you wouldn't give
to have that dream again
daughters with sweet heft of breasts
sons on long stems of bones.
Isadora danced naked on the sand
but you patrolled the shore
trapped in dailyness
chafing your bunions on the beach
rushing to see
if one of us had drowned.
What full-time work it was
for you to live
days sucked into sinks
full of dishes
nights spent ironing
every stroke a small act of love.
California shines and shines.
Summer builds earthworks all year round.
Sun glows electric.
I draw long, even breaths for you
turn and breathe and make such
simple crossings back again. |