Poems

Books strewn around the floor
individually, in twos and threes,
some opened, as if sharing
stories with one another,
some closed, dozing off
in the slant afternoon light
of the fourth floor walk up,
once a tenement filled with
recently arrived languages,
the words shared hope
for better, safer times
to make a life just like
the reader of these books
strewn around the floor
of the fourth floor walk up.

I rise first on weekends,
Heat the kettle for tea, prepare my cup with honey,
Curse at the insistent whistle (I once had a teakettle that sounded like an approaching train)
Read while the tea is steeping.

I hear her stirring,
Grind the coffee beans (if I do the grinding myself I can handle the noise)
Twelve scoops, each more heaping than the last (She likes her coffee strong, hot and ready when she gets up. I'm glad she doesn't hold her men to the same high standard)

I sip and slurp my steaming tea and honey. I no longer believe the caffeine does anything for me,
But the ritual prepares me for whatever will come my way.
She finally rises, drinks, makes lists, prepares for the day in her own way.
Eventually we talk and touch.

There is nothing in my life that seems critical, no life and death decisions,
And so a second cup of tea is in order.
The house is cold but I don't mind. I'll get moving eventually.
I will start my mornings like this from now on.

Your expectations are high walls
I once tried to climb
But now my knees don't bend as well,
My rope is frayed and my grappling hook has lost it's point
The climb is no longer a challenge
Your walls is not for climbing
They are your boundaries and my path goes past them.
To where there are unguarded meadows
Inviting me to sit
Inviting me.

Surround yourself with love,
Or, failing that, indifference.

The kids at my kid's school
Were gathered for morning assembly
And the Vice Principal made
An announcement

A teacher had died
And people were
Sad about that

"Let's have a minute of silence,"
She said.

And to the best of their
Ability, a couple hundred
Restless kids
Went mute

It's what we do for the dead.
A Moment of Silence.

To which I say no, thanks

When I die please
Have a moment of noise:

Laugh Squawk Stomp Clap
Wheeze Bellow Rage Roar

Smack Burp Fart Sneeze
Weep Wail Scream-like-a-Banshee

Giggle Chortle Holler Howl
Sing Talk Chatter Gossip

Hum Honk Soliloquize Screech
Bang Clatter Crash Smash

Make a Joyous Noise
Or a Miserable Noise

But for Pity's Sake
MAKE SOME NOISE

I'll supply the silence.