January 3 2005 Philadelphia
Sweet frozen lake breaking into thousands
of beautiful sounds. Snow. Your mother
breaks a jar of maraschino cherries in the yard.
It's not safe to be loved here. The morning
blows open the bars let out. When you are drunk
you are real really really real frantic yellow light
on blue blue snow. When I am drunk I am afraid.
Sometimes there is blood that's how you know it was good.
March 28 1981 Queens
Nobody knows what they are about to become.
I wash my hands on a wet white camellia.
The clean tired feeling coming home after the beach.
Walking crosstown on streets wet with imaginary neon.
The not-sound of snow just before it falls scent of cold.
I love you so much you haven't happened yet I push time
aside to find you in the body's woozy memory your baby
eyes fastened on nothing how nothing is really everything
and one day you will lift a rock in the water and show me
anemones closing like fists sea stars agile with fear.
I know I will make myself small to love you less frantically.
O what if you're ever unborn? I close my eyes and but
I know you will make me open them underwater.