Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Sleeping Around

My Grandaughter

She twists and turns in the darkness,
sheets coil and contort in her wake
until I am splayed and drawn, quartered
by the magnetic wires that bind generations,
until the wire threatens to snap and slash
the progeny who is my nemesis.
I reach through night’s dark shroud,
place my palm on her small sweet chest…and breathe.

My Gray-Haired Lover

We rest a matched set of spoons fused
by love and living: shared memories, shared
dreams, shared name. His quiet breath,
a butterfly kiss, tickles my ear until I stretch,
back arching, roll onto my stomach breaking spoon’s seal.
He stirs, turns onto his back in slow motion moan,
He reaches through night’s dark veil,
a work-worn hand cups my buttock….and he sighs.

My Favorite Pooch

His small self presses against the hollow of my back,
fused by with a weld that assures I am not alone.
When midnight blasts of fiesta fireworks rouse,
he circles ’round three times, curls his lean body
into a tight “C” and flops into a heap at my side.
I reach through night’s dark curtain,
touch the tiny rump against my side,
pat three times …and sigh.

My Grandson

He sleeps, perchance to dream of damsels and noble knights.
I lay side-by-side my Celtic youngling, a boy of courage and honor,
suffer the wrath of this small chivalrous knight, resolved to slay
the mythic dragon that snores near his ear. The slap of a gauntlet glove,
a mace to the kidney, a flail to my head! I stir. Pelted half-awake
I hear his battle cry: “Take that you filthy beast!”
I roll to the bed’s edge, reach across night's battle scene,
place my hand on his small, gallant head ….and nod.

My Mother

She sleeps, in tomblike silence in somnolent, silken repose.
We lay together, covered by a cotton quilt, hand-stitched
by her own mother many years ago when she was just a girl.
I awaken to unnatural stillness – night silent as a sepulcher,
no sound from my mute mother: not a whisper, not a sigh ,
nor the small, soft wheeze of breath’s inspiration.
I reach through night’s indigo blanket, gently shake
a boney shoulder until she gulps a small gasped growl…..and I smile.

Alone in My Tree House

I lay, a laggard in a hammock, atop a maple tree,
listen to soft summer sounds hum in harmony.
Leaves, a river floating, swirl into child-deep-sleep,
lulling introspection - thoughts superficial; thoughts profound,
 I dream through green leaf filters, and smile as I recall,
all the many different ones of you with whom …. I’ve slept around.









River Lights 2nd Edition

River Lights 2nd Edition
DUBUQUE, IOWA

A TRIBUTE TO WOMANKIND

A TRIBUTE TO WOMANKIND
Norm's Masterpiece