Today's poem is by Linda Annas Ferguson
See, I am making all things new....
I see the world from behind two blades,
windshield wipers that never quite clean
the crust of an insect or let go
of a piece of leaf caught in the hinge.
The clock on the dashboard is wrong.
Music from the radio keeps time
with the rain, never breaking rhythm,
raspy song of rubber, fast on the highway.
Chi my journey, you are a distant place,
the road empty of others. I pass the dark
buildings, vacant lots; listen to my breath,
block out the pounding sounds
on the pavement, hear my own heart beat.
I know the feeling of being inside,
inside the lamplight beginning to burn
as I turn the corner of your street, inside
the cool walls of your bedroom, inside
the heat of the 40-watt bulb by your head
inside the skin of your sheets, inside
the space between desire and sleep, where
all that is fragile has entered you, spread
across your flesh like wrinkles, Wound
through your hair like gray. You whisper
"stay," to the small of my- palm, my cheek,
to all I thought was without need.
Copyright © 2009 Linda Annas Ferguson All rights reserved
from Dirt Sandwich
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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