Every lawn oozing, soak from the earth within
mushrooms up, New England April
not drizzled but so wet it sops, lung-deep.
Every cat or bird-squalk slips into morning
wallowing in seeping new day like insects
on mirror-surface of a pond.
Pinprick ripples echo out.
Every night-light still on is a white point on
crinkled aluminum. Gray-glory morning
devours plumb-husk night.
Daybreak leaks into the grizzled bed we shared
slapped on the diner plate, black coffee hole in the table
last night’s clothes stuck to my body at 5 a. m.
Foot-bound furious threading my steps in and out
luminous pavement deliciously city lit.
Buildings are limestone on tepid water!
This sky pulled me out of bed!
Dawn blossoming lazily to pluck the day!
What was it, sleeping with him?
His arms clam-shelling me, thumbing my palm on the inside
so gingerly fully clothed.
My throat still burning last night’s cigarettes
exhaled luxuriously out the window
curled up with one another the way women do
blue smoke curling from our fingertips, floating
four floors down to the street, swimming
in our drunkenness so deeply.
But as we talked I was on that drive home from
warm body-hairless breathing ribcage
bones billow out.
Golden morning through windshield panorama
every coffee shop glowing in a strange commercial music.
As gray sky clears, buildings stand up taller
white pours over the city
last autumn’s bleached leaves are parchment blankets over the grass.
Morning wanes and the day churns on
traffic abound, tidal swish tires replaces unseen animals
heralding the sun
evaporates at the horizon,
pushes tail lights over the hill
into the emerging, complex distance.
