To David Ferry's "Seen Through A Window"

You say she has plump milk arms
(The woman at the table)
Flowered with a blue bruise,
A cornflower kiss,
From some menial task.

Maybe her husband beats her,
Or perhaps he printed it on her mottled skin
With the hot and tender mouth
That even now gently masticates his food.
Perhaps they cannot wait for the end of dinner,
And bed.
Perhaps they are dreaming of other dinners,
Tables, and different chairs.
Yes, they are very beautiful in the green light,
Bearing each other up and down
Through the years and body of the room.

As seen through windows,
Aren't we all stones singing underwater?
Whatever we know of each other,
Is like these blue and milk kisses,
Is like a stone.




Here's a link to the wonderful David Ferry poem that inspired this one:
http://faculty.washington.edu/rmcnamar/383/ferry.html
(sorry, seems you'll have to cut and paste it into the browser)

I shouldn't read medical texts before bed.....

Lullaby

Dry-boned blinking child
I'm afraid I'll never bear,
Are we in a cradle
Or an old rocking chair?

Baby thrusting skinny
Little fingers into mine,
Our knuckles crack together,
Holding breath and keeping time.

You are thin as any whisper,
I'm concave as every word,
We are empty as an eggshell,
And your softness is absurd.

Though this dragon may deny you
I can see you from above,
You are made of crystal candy
Dreaming, stillborn little love.