East and West

Peaceful morning.
A coffee, black. Steam rolling.
Eyes shutting, hands tugging
at the white towel she wears.
Long night, quick morning
an unrolled newspaper
black and white
has a headline about
the West Bank.

Feet on cold bathroom tile.
Porcelain squares
arranged like a checker board.
She is careful not to step on the cracks.
Water from a recent shower clings
to the mirror. A curious finger
peels back a layer to reveal
two shoulders.

Fingers frantic discover new lines.
A naked mouth, a nose too big,
two brown eyes.
The towel drops, being untended,
and two hands claw at the opaque
dew. The puzzle comes together.
Her mother’s skin looks good on her.
She curses God’s abundance,
for hips too big.

Her finger tips are wet again
and shaking. Her arms weak.
Her stomach growling.
She puts her hand on her side
the dew clinging
to her milk and honey skin.
She struggled with herself.
Hot and cold, strong and weak,
wet and dry,
East and West.

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Haiku XXXIII

In the morning peace
failing light and shadow tree,
Bring all your nothing

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Workin’ Man

Awake. Black coffee and toothpaste for breakfast.
Its bitter but its clean. Can’t take food – if its a tuesday
I shave. If not I think about growing a beard.
In the shower – avoid the mirror. If I’m happy I sing,
If I am tired I make it as hot as the damn black coffee I just drank.
Out of the shower – mirror is fogged. Something is weird.
A thing, something frank and genuine. A colony of hardworking ants.
Put on a tie: Monday is blue, Thursday is green, and a bowtie for Friday.
Check my watch. Nope, forget it on the night stand. Damn.
Go get the watch. Turn on the tube. Watch some news.
Enough to be cultured but not enough to be jaded.
Switch to cartoons. Vaguely remember childhood.
Finally look in the mirror. Remember your are an adult.
Its time for work. So off we go.

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A Million Morning Moments (or some other uncountable number)

A million morning moments
call me to bed each night
for how could I awake
next to the warmth
of your belly big with child?

If I never came back
How could I discover dreams
are ment to enhance reality
rather than betray or perplex?

Without first learning the allure
of two ice cold feet searching
under a covered world for heat-
A voyage I once loathed –
How could I come to embrace
you – even in your coldest moments.

Yet I resist closing my eyes
and reutrning to rest
until a  reluctant kiss I pry
from the woman who makes
me want to wake myself each day
but whose tranquilty
lulls me to sleep each night.

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