Thursday, September 30, 2010

Shattered Glass

Dunk wash rinse place repeat
I transfer plates glasses utensils from one sink to the next and then to the rack to dry
moving each piece from left to right
like writing the directions for a screeplay
The warm water, the clanging of the pipes, the tiny rounds of water fighting air pressure and losing
Soothing in its simplicity, necessity
I pause, my hand deep inside a long narrow goblet
the edge almost touching the spigot
Have I forgotten?
Has it been long enough for fear-born-of-scar-tissue caution to be lost?
If this glass is too thin, if it taps the metal just right,
will it shatter?
Will the fragments shatter my hand, my precious hand, kaleidoscope it, filet it to the bone?
Will I be able to clamp, glue, stitch, anything
to staunch the spurting blood before it dirties the other dishes?
I pause and ever so carefully remove my hand from inside the glass and put all the rest into the dishwasher.

When I Grow Up

When I grow up I'm going to fly
Except I'm afraid of heights anyway
I'm even afraid when I stand on a chair to change a lightbulb
So I guess I'll have to scotch that idea

Speaking of scotch...
When I grow up I'm going to weave plaids
Except I don't have a loom and I can't stand plaids anyway
So that goes out the window

Speaking of windows...
When I grow up I'm going to have a super delux netbook
Except I'm a bit of a luddite anyway
So I'll have to take another look at that

Speaking of looking...
When I grow up I'm going to see faraway places and in new ways
Except I hate to travel and I can't see without my glasses anyway

I'm going to ride my bike to the top of some mountain and fly down
weaving in and out of traffic trying not to look at my speedometer

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

how the internet has replaced my address book

i have a tradition.

when ten persons in my address book have died, i replace it.

i have four address books and no longer keep one, storing addresses in my computer software or in my phone.

i was scrolling through my list of favorite blogs just now, scribblings, rants, recipes, poetry, knitting patterns and the like.

three of the authors i follow have died in the last few months.

when it hits ten, do i replace my computer? delete all access to the internet? what?

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Rish rush shel ha mayim

Can't understand the sounds, joyous throb in my ears
as I wade into strange waters and dive under,
one last time, reciting al hatevilah, v'kayam b'maahmaro, shehehyanu.

I give up the oceans and climb, cold air pain replacing thermals.
Peeking around the mountain I choose to shield me,
I see streaks of golden dark bouncing off the edge of a broken tunnel.

"Just hold on, baby, just hold on! You close your eyes!"

Close my eyes? That means trust.
It means giving up control,
or at least the illusions I have of control.

Swallow fear, pride, facades and let the stomach acids dissolve them at their own pace.
Meantime, I keep my cadence, clinging to the handles, lean my head on his back,
eyes shut tight and whisper,

I am. I will. I can. I do.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Life Beyond the Blowtorch

Three icebergs float in my veins, sleet attached to steel like white cells attacking virus,
floating there as long as I've been floating here, away from my other life.
Metal worked crosses mark their passage
blood broken glass sheared fiberglass are visas to hostile territory.
Every day for so long I didn't see even them
except from the corner of my eye.
Tonight, three years on, I'm glad the street lights are out.
I'm glad its too dark to see the teddy bear menagerie flower garlands
and boxes of broken chocolates, creme filling removed by various feral beasts,
homage on the median.
But the streetlight comes on just as I hit the underpass.
Spotlight on trois prei deux.
Baby, take a bow and exit stage right