Look at you up in the sky
Shining, pulling oceans
Back and forth,
The flow of blood
Through my heart,
Thoughts in my head.
When was it you
Entered my genes,
Became part of me,
Wrapped around my soul,
Filled my veins with liquid
Moonlight?
When did my
Comings and goings,
Ebb and flow
Fall under your gravity?
When did I discover
I saw better by
Moonlight?
Look at you up in the sky
Shining, so bright
Mars hides
In your light,
Blushes at your beauty,
Paralyzed.
For Lee. Be well my dear one. You were the font of all that is good and right in this world, the genesis of all that is beautiful and the wellspring of all that in creation is joy. I will see you later. I will.
On our way
home from the beach
We stop beside the car
For you to change,
Backside to the passenger door,
I hold a blanket in front of you
As you slip off your top
And drop a loose
Dress over your shoulders
Over your belly,
Mid-calf,
Neglecting to button the bodice
So you dry in the air.
And below the blanket
Your bathing suit
Bottom hits the ground.
As I drive the highway home
Still wet,
You place your feet on the dashboard,
Pull open your top just a bit more
Pull up the hem of your dress over your hips
and fan yourself dry
On the car seat
Spread out in the sun.
I almost hit a wall.
I almost hit a tree.
Bless you.
(A poem for Lee)
I believe in you.
You.
Like I believe
The Sun rises each morning and
The moon shades from light to dark then
To light again.
I believe in you
Like I believe in
The laws of Nature.
I am as sure of you as
Water runs downhill,
Cold contracts,
Gasses expand,
An object in motion stays in motion…
I am as sure of you as I am
Spring will come again and again.
I believe in you like light.
I wrote this a long time ago. I won an award for it. I picked it for contests because I don’t like it. never did. But other people seem to. That’s fine. A mystery to me, but I’m ok with that.
But, it occurred to me, today, now… now I get this. How odd is that? To write something but not get it for nearly thirty years?
I want to lay my head
in the curve of someone’s lap.
Down
on someone who isn’t going anywhere.
I want to rest
and close my eyes
and be blest
by the stroking of my hair.
I want to feel the skin
against my cheek and lips
of someone who will let me in,
someone who won’t throw me off.
I don’t care
who or what they are
or how it appears in others’ sight.
I’m not asking for a year
or even a night,
I just want to lay my head
in the curve of a lap
of someone who isn’t going anywhere.
(Published in The Phoenix and the Dragon as well as several anthologies.)
At a garage sale last Sunday
I purchased an erector set.
Not an ordinary erector set
but one in a sky blue box
and in it everything I need
to build angels.
It’s an angel building kit.
Not the kind of angels
made of plastic and wire and
glue makes your head hurt
and the world dizzy spin.
Not like a model set.
Not like the kind of angels
who blow a horn
and my living room walls
come tumbling down
or talk in my brain and I go off
to fight the English,
but the kind of angels
who open rain clouds,
tug at grass blades until they’re long,
lift up the corners of a baby’s mouth.
The kind of angels who pull open irises
and make it so you can see
the chest of your loved one
sleeping next to you
rise and fall with each inspiration
even though it’s completely dark,
but you know you see it.
It’s my angel building kit.
So far,
since I took my kit home
and opened it,
It has rained,
my grass grew,
my irises bloomed
and I can see my loved one’s chest
rise and fall in the night
even though I have the shades drawn,
and it’s completely dark.
Adam Byrn Tritt 