Selected Poems
Sheets
Between two thieves' crosses, each weary rope is strung as telephone wire.
She dances among clean bedding, fresh and white, hung to dry on the line.
Without any witness, she pirouettes between those open doorway spaces
a duvet, fluff comforters, the light linen blankets and a dozen pillow cases.
A window into her escape, a crisp bleached solo, alone, is walled with sheets
Could you, behold your mother dancing, seeing only her hands and her feet?
Slant sun filters, like the movie protector, through maple branches and oaks, leaves
shadows on sheets, pinch hung with her driftwood clothespins, waving in the breeze.
Sheets once slapped on stones, down by the river or rubbed on ribs of an old wash board
Her silhouette fills sails of air ships to travel, is still bedding hung cumbersome in the yard.
She takes down her laundry dry room, folded and placed in baskets. She decides to disappear.
You'll find her again, wild eyed. Her scent wrapped in sheets and laid out, across a made bed.
She dances among clean bedding, fresh and white, hung to dry on the line.
Without any witness, she pirouettes between those open doorway spaces
a duvet, fluff comforters, the light linen blankets and a dozen pillow cases.
A window into her escape, a crisp bleached solo, alone, is walled with sheets
Could you, behold your mother dancing, seeing only her hands and her feet?
Slant sun filters, like the movie protector, through maple branches and oaks, leaves
shadows on sheets, pinch hung with her driftwood clothespins, waving in the breeze.
Sheets once slapped on stones, down by the river or rubbed on ribs of an old wash board
Her silhouette fills sails of air ships to travel, is still bedding hung cumbersome in the yard.
She takes down her laundry dry room, folded and placed in baskets. She decides to disappear.
You'll find her again, wild eyed. Her scent wrapped in sheets and laid out, across a made bed.
