Sunday, May 09, 2010

What I did today

after the hailstorm
I dreamed of a plague
of mosquitoes

after the plague
I got up, had coffee
went out and bought
a wooden boot jack

I like it best when
my husband takes
off my boots

after the boot jack
I bought silver crosses
for my ears

I like it best
when my husband is
my salvation

tonight
I had no dreams so
I read poetry

my husband slept
beside me dreaming
of me, his poem

1 comment:

S.L. Corsua said...

Such devotion in the husband. Lucky fellow, too, to have "his poem" and to have his poem personified. :)

And the 'salvation' part ties well with the 'plague' at the outset. Crisis averted. :) Cheers.

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"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken

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The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

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