Wednesday, June 28, 2006

The 7th Year

my husband doesn’t want me
to leave this morning

he clings to my elbow, kisses my cheek

he didn’t let me sleep all last night
talking to me in my dreams
twitching and kicking the mattress

I dreamt I went vampire killing
again in the stacks of the school library
my husband always over my shoulder
muttering directions

sometimes we roll together in the grass
sometimes my hands at his throat
sometimes my lips at his ear

is this the dance our parents whispered of?

confetti in our hair
the band tired and playing low,
my red dress creased?

and still in this
side to
side
back&forth
I smell his breath
and it’s sweet
always sweet
like marigolds
still bloom
inside him

6 comments:

Aleah Sato said...

There are some really fantastic little gems in this. Me like.

Michael A. Wells said...

Yet another long ball. ;) Sorry for the baseball analogy but you do reach the fences often.

Christine E. Hamm, Poet Professor Painter said...

Ms. Jane -- thanks!

Michael -- thanks, I think! Um, I can't read your comment without thinking of something dirty...

luc u! said...

i love this

Unknown said...

Christine:

Could you record this one for us and send it to me? didimenendez at hotmail dot com

It is for TGNS.

thank you,
didi

Christine E. Hamm, Poet Professor Painter said...

Thanks, Luc!

And Didi, yes, certainly, probably this weekend.