Saturday, July 26, 2008

What It Is

leaving the bathroom this morning
I saw covers pulled over his shoulders;
he wants to sleep a little longer

up early, I need solitude,
coffee and frequently a pen and paper;
there are things to sort

this morning I dreamt of you,
I have for years and
sometimes they've come true;
it worries and astounds me

he says it's indicative
of how much time
I spend on others;
too much, he says,
it isn't healthy
in the dream, you talked
from the opposite end of
a rotary telephone,
the hard black receiver
cupped your face like a hand

I sensed it was mine and
listened because its what I do;
you always have a lot to say
even in my dreams

you posed a jumbled question,
something that I couldn't hear;
while the line was still
I answered - unable to stop

words tumbled out like
the black numbers printed
on a dial plate, 1, 3, 7, 9

I looked down; the cloth
handset cord hung mid-air,
frayed and disconnected
like some discarded toy
children use for make-believe

indicative of
what it is

hrr 072608

1 comment:

  1. Heather!
    It's been a while since I commented on one of your poems. I just want to say how much I always enjoy them.
    and I love this one! It's so vivid. I love this,
    "...the hard black receiver
    cupped your face like a hand
    I sensed it was mine..."
    Those lines paint a picture I can see, and the lines that follow convey a very strong emotion that I can't describe, but somehow - I swear - I can relate. It's a completely intangible feeling in my gut.
    Anyway, thanks so much for sharing your work with us. I know I don't say much any more these days, but I love to read your poems and I'm grateful you feel comfortable sharing them with us.
    :)

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