I thought about you
Moon unusually brazen
In the left window. I watch it
Angle down and dim, then center
And I wish it would stop
For the night. Sleep's gone, sifted
Through me into the blue sheets. I think
I dreamed that dream again. If only a guardian
Angel would appear in the doorway, palm
Lifted, bringing the scent of heaven--
Gardenia and starched lace. What
Could she say but aldilà? You come back
Too often. Now that I've subracted
Your name from mine, who can you be?
Not a friend, no one. Only the mind
Can boggle, the word reserved,
As in the way one says my husband.
A Creole conjure woman lived in this room.
I catch her faint zest of oranges.
Those are her calla lilies in the yard,
Clean white cones I could drink milk from.
Hard heels fast like yours
Clipping the concrete at this hour,
Some pale soul off early to work. Still it's night.
Sleep, night, night, sleep. There's a truth
If only I could uncover it.
A rude hex, a final word cut
In a gold medallion. If only
My room would fill with butterflies
And the thumb-sized finches
That nest in the eugenia bushes. Three, four
Five. I might as well lower the bucket into
The well, myself into myself again.
Mayes home page
In the summer
The sleeper
Good Friday, driving home
The untying of a knot
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