a ritual to start the work week
Who controls your time here, dears?
I mean, the way you spend it,
not how much you can gather
before the last sand grain falls
and final second hand tics.
Take it as you take my love:
a deep spirit to savor,
warm your heart and ease your mind;
yours to gulp, bubbly and light,
refreshing, endless and free.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
What’s this? Where is this
strange place I’ve gone?
So much flatness and grey.
The work is the same, the pen
between my fingers, the keys
and the screen. The seltzer
bubbles popping on my tongue.
This cushy chair holds me closer
and extends its arms for me.
But I miss the ease of your reach,
mid-day dishes and candlelight,
the warmth and the wood.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
Bullfrog, waiting, weighs his choices:
fat, flapping suckers flit and fly,
a smorgasbord abuzz-buzzing.
Child’s wide eyes flit from fish to fish:
the feint and the flipper, swimmers
flopping from shallow warmth to depth.
Little fingers flap, swat and clench:
dratted distractions bedevil
grand plans of searching and snatching.
Eyelids narrow to a tight squint:
surprising speed; a single fist;
a wriggle; squeal; splash!; and a hop.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
You live on my lips, my love,
parting them when you dance
and tucked in at bedtime,
all pillows and soft cotton.
You live in my belly, my love,
pulling apart the world
so I can use it to grow,
settling and stoking my flame.
You live in my knees, my love,
greasing my way, easing
the blow of each step as it
reaches forward in the dark.
You live in my little toes, my love,
holding me centered and hiding
behind sandal straps, silently
supporting my unfurling spine.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
All eyes, onward we reach;
gaze manifesting our way.
These lips, cotton-mouthed
and kept dry by invisible
threats and sodden cheeks.
Lashes batting away breezes,
teases and taunts: why butterfly,
you beat so heavily and in peace.
Born of liquid and bound to
earth before tempting air,
you take a form that overcomes
what held you. Up into
the night, we fly. Wide lens
and deep periphery flitting
between our foci. Don’t lie
still. Stir and unsettle. Cover
your full-throated pleadings
with coated pills and soulful
greetings; heal and fill. Well up
and tear. Blink and see, again.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
The drone of justice whirs
quietly in the distance,
maneuvering around plots
and beds, not always with care.
It repeats and sputters,
turning up stones and slicing
away the overgrowth:
a called-for trim.
The sweat of its operator
settles above ruffled brow
and squinting eye, drying
slowly in the morning sun.
Their last patch crossed,
motor cut, they wipe and sigh,
enjoy the fresh scent of their labor
and move on to the next.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
Listen, my loves, but not for me,
for I merely echo and repeat.
Listen, my loves, for the crack and the strain
of chords wrapping taut around his name,
his name, his name, his name, his name.
Feel it pop in your ears and thrum:
beats dropping, beating drops, throat numb.
Listen for the humming
and listen for the hymn.
Listen for the chants and threats
and listen for the ring of bells
cracked and horses reared. Listen
for crumbling altars and listen
for mother’s tears as they echo,
crawling and gasped across the desert
of her cheek, so scarred by white men’s fears.
Listen for black voices and repeat their urgent cries.
My loves, if we do nothing, love itself surely dies.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
Take in memories.
Feel them swirl
through your nostrils
and billow within
cavernous lungs:
pillows of past
humblings and pride
fillings and fear
swells and quells,
unexpected joys,
shudders and thrills
to rest your head on
and wind your day down.
Let their oxygen
feed you, stream
tributary to
muscle and mind,
leaving droplets
of doubt or regret
to cling, carbon-bound
and blown back
through pursed lips
into ether, ready
for sun’s bake or
time’s turn to cleanse.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
Glee cracks open grizzled face,
beckoned up by sky-plucked rays
and warmed by the sun’s embrace.
A tangle of digits sways,
clasping and crowding. We rise
again to spiral our ways
around a stone as it flies.
Hands outstretched to catch its pace;
hope grown high behind our eyes.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
Stone walls fly by,
stacked high, high up
to heaven and higher,
protecting our fire,
our shore. Leaving
harsher roads behind,
finding softer curves
ahead to swoon over,
you intone lover’s song,
some tune too still and
settled to groan our heavy
loads into atwitter.
A bigger melody
builds below, a new
awareness creeping
up from sea blue waters
that we hum at night and
hope wafts into her
arms spread wide over
us all.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
Open your ears to the breeze, dear one,
Hear it sigh across your skin.
And with your tongue outstretched toward the sun,
My love, taste the warmth it feeds within.
Set down your aching bones near the base of a tree,
And reach up its trunk with your spine.
Feel its bark push back into your weight and see
Its roots yearn like your arms for mine.
And if when your eyes flutter wide your gaze holds
Nothing but a mossy, damp stare,
Just smell the deep exhale that uncurls and unfolds
Like your sweet fingers through my hair.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
