Nancy 4-6

4

Out the black windows I stare into you.
The night, not there. The weekend, no. In morning
You become the person I first knew.
I become a yapping puppy bouncing
For the new day when all will be well.
Why can we not remain in this bubble
And do as the wise counselor counsels?
When we begin, stop. When we rage, leave.
Is it possible that we could learn the language
Of those people who seem calmly to live?

5

Spring comes. The dead fall. We no longer mourn.
Let us climb Mount Adams, let us go to Canada,
New Brunswick, Nova Scotia-
The tide in Digby strands a boat in an hour,
returns with strength to break the anchor.
I awaken with a sense of undone journeys,
Forgotten revelations, hands reaching out of tears-
Please. Please. Do not go on your retreat.
Stay and I will show you rooms we have not used.
Stay. The air goes with you, ripping the curtains.

6

My heart beats as if running after you.
I focus on the windows of the hill house -
Perhaps they see you going, returning,
Have eyes that I can read through a telescope.
Why is it you? What is there about you?
Your uncertainty inhabits my hands,
An earthquake tears the bottom from the lake,
erupts the valley skyward, the road teeters .
fall back to me, let me break you, cool you
into serrated rocks that lacerate my feet.

© 2009