In the Current

my wife's back turned to me
as she settles to sleep
shouldn't have meaning
since I'm not 15 anymore
analyzing every movement
and pulling apart flowers
she loves me, she loves me not

but lately
our arguments have been tsunamis
marred by the debris of others' lives
so I've been obsessed with knowing
what everything she does portends

her back
could be a wall
and I'd have to decide
to climb it like a vine
or turn away myself

her back
could be a sign of trust
since you never turn your back
to the enemy
and time has taught her
that I am with her
against this bitter world

her back
could just be what's behind her
and she's trying her best to face forward

and that is what I see tonight
she's trying to negotiate
the roiling currents of her life
trying to swim to me
even though I'm rough
and she gets slivers when she holds me

and I'm trying not to bob
too violently in the waves
for her to get purchase

and we're both tiny things
unnoticed by the ocean
so we turn to each other and talk
painfully, haltingly at first
then with increasing grace and candor

when at last we are done
the significance is clear
she turns to her side
I kiss the delicate hollow
between her shoulder blades
as I have so many times before

and I'm glad she reached for me
thankful for the breadth and buoyancy
of my body, lifting her up
to rest from paddling
to dry herself
to simply be

I bow to the universe
that has allowed us
to meet in the vastness
and travel along together

Adding Rings

the sun dipping low
highlights the trunks of tall trees
hinting at the need
for structure, consistency
continuous unfolding

Summer Rain

an abrupt downpour
sends freshness barreling in
the open front door

Juneuary

keyholes between clouds
permit glimpses of summer
sun brightens puddles

Light

in its place the sun roils
immense and unfathomable
sending photons hurtling toward earth

that eight minutes from now
she will not notice
as she drives home
trembling
weeping
regretting

instead of seeing
this moment
in all its perfection

only later will she sit
and breathe
and feel the light upon her skin
and when she does
nothing will be fixed

and she will bow
to everything that can't be fixed

Sunset

near to the solstice
a gash across the twilight
sunset spurting blood
she stops to write about it
and looks up to find it gone

Connection

the leaves outside my window
turned gray in the twilight
while I wrote

I get up to make tea
thinking about the view from your window
as you write
and sip tea

May

spring has begun to whisper
into summer's ear
"it's nearly time, beloved"

I sit on the balcony
wrapped in a blanket
drinking tea
watching the leaves grow fat
too slowly for my eyes

the cat waits beside the door
ready to dash out past my legs
we both yearn toward the broad sky