It's Still Life

Sonnet #1 we called the drought rain, and it drummed a small thunder. the ground stained naked as night, a dismal and withering drizzle. but we danced, and we drank, falling about and blowing at clouds, spilling air on mud-entranced faces, and our eyes stared at the sky as we buried it all with a…

Tipping Dominos he is a book better bolted shut. He is fire escaped. and I know a woman who howls and cries, but its music is lost on deaf senses. he is an ox in a pine forest, and he’ll break earth. and I know a man who shakes and prays, but he also dances…

Dressing for Weather This hat is a mistake. Too tight. It imprints knit and pearl and cable stitch on my forehead. But I’ll wear it; it keeps me warm. The weather’s still edgy. And when did I start noticing if zippers are metal? It seems the world’s gone plastic but this zip is metal —…

Your Little Black Cloud This is just to say that I’ve drained your little black cloud. It came swimming at me, like a water bird. A depth. A loon. And I was a boat in its wake. Rocked.     written for Miz Quickly Day 28: write a poem in the style of William Carlos…

This is a revised version. Al’s Fresco Palace Restaurant in Hong Kong From time to time, I’m still somewhere under a China sun that staggers in midday heat. I’m below a canvas shadow. On a wrought iron chair. Where pavements are gum-stuck; the air’s bruised. This is not heaven, and at times, it’s hardly earth,…

Did You Hear the Rain The radio is white noise, but I can’t help listening — falling into “Did You Hear the Rain”. I hum, and empty the dishwasher, dry the glasses before they spot. The phone rings. Her ashes have arrived, says the receptionist, you can pick her up today. And I can’t hear…