Off to the northwest
Like vapors,
Pushing away a storm
That is sometimes best to bypass.
I suppose
I can just tell myself my
Stories as I figure the way out.
Sky flickers and the night
Unsettles more, but softly.
My friend said she's going to
Turn away for a while.
In some cases that could be
A perfectly balanced thing
To do. In others
Perhaps not as balanced
As it is the radical shift at
Time's end.
I don't think I can turn
Away for a while,
But I can turn and face
The rush of past,
Gleam of future
When it's barely there
Anymore.
I have to wonder,
Looking at photos and gardens and things,
What does beauty really mean?
Lately I've given up a great many
Assumptions.
I have so little time
To become aware
It doesn't really matter
I guess.
I untangle my hair
Like a night-gowned prairie
Woman, and
Put it in a braid
For the night: I
Imagine and remember and
Call back to my lovers.
Outside and in
The disarray is fevered
And I think
It's the way life is
Sometimes
I imagine the yard and swaths
Of green blowing tall
Because unmowed,
I see the gardens beautiful in
Their blooming, changing seasons,
Filled now with need of weeding.
I imagine going back to lie
In the long grasses of the
Plains. In reverie
The house leans into deeper
Beauty's flaws, its disrepair
We see and cannot change,
At least right now.
At least right now
I'm like this place.
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