Quietly, 2006

Quietly, 2006

Quietly, he can breathe underwater. He smiles now.
He shivered for two days. I stroked his damp forehead.

I read. I twist string. I watch. I listen. I sit.
And the pounds shed.

It’s spring inside me and the world is frozen solid.
White stuff falls out of the sky.
I have to go and see the people tonight. She has two
inside of her. I am shedding away.

Sit and I think of all of you.
Quietly. They sit around many times a day.
They tell each other what’s hard. They tell
the truth. They look to God. I look at my shoes.

Quietly sipping. Will you wake up with me in
the morning? Or will you crash?

I’ll pack up the house. I’ll send your things all over
this country. I’ll sell everything. I’ll go on the road.
I’ll leave.

Only you keep me in this frozen hand.
He sings quietly as he strums his guitar.
He hums. He plays jazz. Did you know?

He’s really good.

He’s excellent at everything he does.

I think I’ll go and wash. Let it fall over me.
He likes to take showers. He sits at the edge and licks.
Will you come with me and wash?

I’ll just sit here; not running.
I won’t run. One thing at a time.
And then I’ll call youth; marriage; middle-age.

Movement through time;
tumbling downward. Rush!
Or move slowly like me.
One foot in-front of the other.

One love in-front of another.
He snores. I pant. The bed is cleared off.
The clothes are put away. The washer is going.
It’s a quiet life now; I put it down the drain.

And now I drink juice. I drink water
I inhale and words come tumbling out.
I can’t stop; that’s not an option anymore.

Oil oozes.
I put another piece in. My face has changed. Break it.

I’ll go a head of you and clear the way.
Then, you can follow. I’ll keep an eye on you.
Don’t worry.

Let me say good-bye to my friends;
let me say hello, slowly, to the others
and leave you behind.

Just; I’ll follow you there.
I’m right here behind you, following.
Quietly. Make room. I’m here too.
I don’t say anything until they ask.
Quiet; I sit and wait for spring.

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