aubade

love

a hummingbird

stain of sky

you're rubbing with rags

dome of moon

cut neat in half

bass of his laugh

rain cleansing a river

river giving itself

back to sky

smell of dandelion 

wine he ages

love travels

on shoulders of light

love is light's 

unspoken ache

coyotes do not have a word for love

coyotes howl

all night lovers ask do you love me

all night the manifold beloveds howl

years ago a teacher asked us to sew a flag

for a country called Love my father carried me

to the terrace & pointed upwards

let's scissor a piece of sky

so your flag is full of stars

sleep fragments


since he refuses to speak

I observe him sleep

the whole experience is akin 

to crossing an ocean

walking on a bridge of stones

except it's not stones it's electricity

and the ocean's not an ocean

but your father's soul


*

a ten-inch mattress

rests on the floor

(the bed too far 

off the ground for me)

beside ma's diwan


uneasy as time he moves

from one side to another

ever changing

his position like Jupiter


one could be so restless

only in a body

they want to escape


*


my voice is your voice

my empty chair your empty chair

my budding bald spot your bald head

my wakeful sleep your wakeful sleep


*


what if all these poems about you 

are like a movie which loses everything 

good about the book


*


the Jupiter of his body collides 

with the diwan


*


one afternoon I inform him he hums in his sleep


there is no one who does not

some babble others sing gospels


*


perhaps if we said please

please rain please Tuesday

please sleep


*


no alcoholic steps into the same sleep twice


*


is a poem beginning

there was a time my father

or a poem fashioned from his insomnia

a portrait of the father or the poet

or both or neither

 

*


so glad your snores are solely yours


*


night an orchestra of insects

sleep an abandoned hall


*


you've got to be a ceiling fan to understand any of this


*

all dreams memory after waking

all words law after believing


*


the body bleeds out the night's undoing

here we are again   awake   he says to himself   alive

Heritage


I inherited my father’s nose (who inherited his father’s righteousness and his mother’s color blindness) and my mother’s hostility (who inherited her mother’s hospitality and her father’s nervous smile). My father’s father inherited his father’s aura migraines (who inherited his father’s high cholesterol and his mother’s manner of eating without chewing) and his mother’s hair (who inherited her mother’s falsetto and her father’s temper). My father’s mother inherited her mother’s elation (who inherited her father’s empathy and her mother’s diabetes) and her father’s sweat glands (who inherited his father’s alcoholism and mother’s silence). My mother’s mother inherited her father’s introversion (who inherited his father’s laugh lines and his mother’s poor memory) and her mother’s brittle fingernails (who inherited her mother’s moustache and her father’s metabolism). My mother’s father inherited his father’s insomnia (who inherited his father’s potbelly and his mother’s eye dust) and his mother’s baldness (who inherited her mother’s freckles and her father’s sweet tooth).



First published in The Ocotillo Review: The Alternative Family by Kallisto Gaia Press

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