Feet nestled, arms stretched long along a blue flowered dress
Five fat fingers cuddle an upraised button
As lips pucker under the bone of the neck and open in
Full yawn revealing the beginnings of teeth
Tongue darting out to explore a long strand of hair
Dangling from off the child’s nose like a fishing line
Both beings swaying with the intimate song of sleep’s breath.
The sleepers rocking in their orange and yellow chairs
Undisturbed by the dings of stops and the conductors warnings:
“Watch the closing doors.”
The sun pouring from the windows of the Brighton Beach express
Washes their softness into a butterfly melt that soaks memory
From the metallic corners of my mind back into my palate
Soaking me in waking dreams of lost and soon to be found intimacy.
A paper open on the floor between us screams of war
Of disaster of scandal of continuing hardships awaiting us all
It flutters its fonts large and small and waves it colors to the morning breeze
“Saying hello, are you World?" To the folks that inhabit you? Dreaming
in sleep and waking far from your nightmares. Far from all nightmare.
Suspended between departure and arrival.
Momentarily pardoned from the weight of consciousness.
Tenements that fly past revisited after the cold long months
Of snow and school and work and war and struggles that promise
Relief “soon, soon, soon. Around a corner, the next bend, the next
Quarter, fiscal or two dimes and a nickel for some, for more and more.
Less, less and less” Stress on the syllable sugar coated, we remove a layer
And reach for a plastic bottle of water to wet our throats and remind
Us again of the touch that we live for and that is never worth death.
5/30 of 30/30 National Poetry Month April 2011