Poems 7/7/09

Sublime

The toes curved over the edge of a sandle
the perfect arch of skin and bone
muscle wrapped, tendon tucked
skin on skin tanned/processed
the scent: musk and old foreign cheese
perhaps prized, but oh, sublime

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Rain

The drops
like the tracks of the train
going over them
combing them through my hair
the slow gasps of an instant between
the sound and the sensation
inescabable they are silent

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Strand

When it's winter and the beach is snow covered
ice-laced
I tiptoe in moccasins to feel the color
seeping like an infectious disease over the palms
of my feet.
The magnificent color of cloud covering compared with blue-black water.
A bruise next to the skin of the land.
Choke me like the reeds are choked by chill.