who learns to hold-carry

and balance-give

and take-in love.

A woman who treasures,

who looks to the limits in the sky

and notices the pennies in her path.

And realizing she might just

not know

she learns to sort through

first hand love for second-hand pieces

feeling for heaviness.

At least this pile’s

nicer than the one

She found it in-

a minute, an hour

more than 5 days ago-

when she learned

first hand love could be a

second hand burden

And that by the time it

reached her back-

safe keeping could

turn a cool breeze

dark and smokey.

She wraps her arms

around this

Libra laundry

and thanks Truth

the big sky

and little lucky money

for her present pile

for  its still clouds,

for splintery glimmers

and for even making

a goddamn mess of things.

And as her mind’s eye

runs a stitch

over that robe she’d wear-

gift from someone

to someone else to her

she considers

that constellation

in this

new sky.

I see a happy hug
a teasing love
a simple sailboat
heading out to sea

the ebb and flow
come and go
and hope’s the sail to see

my lucky love
our wave’s above
the sun, the sky, the sea.

in gentle waves
can jagged caves
be explored and seen.

so tell the mist
tell the shells

because
the words
are
lost
at
sea.

If all words surrounding this issue weren’t clumsy and cliche

If talking weren’t like a strange game,

Like trying to balance

Seashells in a box filled with sand

Without friction or grit

And if all requests were being granted

I’d ask

For all words surrounding this issue

To cradle me like the happy swing of a rocking chair

For a moment if just that.

And if nature answered my requests

It would take simply

One sunny warm day

To heal and seal: this

And the sun would render me transparent

Or at least completely changed

And I would not need proof of that beauteous thing

Even as the sun retreats with November.

If only this could fade with seasonal warmth

Showing itself new

Like a pretty orange leaf

Happily caught

By an eye on dark pavement.

Perhaps the sign would be accepted

Seen

Like an elm leaf

That’s been holding tight

Through cold

In the name of Spring

In the name of Love

In the face of a Storm that has passed.

If things were so easy

As sheer, will-powered changes

Like clearing and cleaning off tables

Making way for things fresh and new-

I’d be a cleaner.

If this were a shaky house worthy of renovation-

I’d be a builder.

If I made the rules

I’d rewrite them

And they would be a healing blanket.

* “Parole” translates to “words” in Italian.

Last night I went to bed and dreamt of you.

You weren’t my younger sister in my dream

And she was not your mother, only mine.

You held an empty box. Its space was like

The pit in my stomach. Like when we fight:

Two girls, an empty box, and no ribbon

To hold the scene together. Our words were

Heavy like my heart when I heard…

When you got sick. Stay with me, don’t ignore,

I know you hate it when I fear for you,

Especially out loud- when I use words.

It’s easy to argue about filling

The car with gas, or when you piss me off.

It’s easy to talk about red-headed

Children that I will have before you do.

In these places there are no directions

And where we go there is no wise counsel.

I won’t scare you with my fears, Maria.

The poem, the lines, these two girls, are sisters.

]]> http://www.antoninawrites.com/poetry/words-to-get-things-started/feed/ 0