uses for light

Afternoon in the Cluny Garden, Paris, by Charles Courtney Curran

letters for six years 

and we met this morning 

I had elderflower&chamomile 

tea and she had a muffin 

and something hot to drink

on the cusp of living alone

if a girl falls

and no one is there
to hear it,

does she make a sound?

You Too Got Tired

You too got tired of being an advertisement
for our world, so that angels could see: yes it's pretty, earth.
Relax. Take a rest from smiling. And without complaint
allow the sea-breeze to lift the corners of your mouth.

You won't object; your eyes too, like flying paper,
are flying. The fruit has fallen from the sycamore tree.
How do you say to love in the dialect of water?
In the language of earth, what part of speech are we?

Here is the street. What sense does it finally make:
any mound, a last wind. What prophet would sing. . . .
And at night, from out of my sleep, you begin to talk.
And how shall I answer you. And what shall I bring.

- from The Selected Poetry of Yehuda Amichai

fé's sky, january 2013

underneath it, we wrote

a poem together. we told

dirty jokes and laughed ourselves

silly. our birthdays

are a week apart, and five

years. we watched tv, she ate

spongebob macaroni, or tried,

but she said she couldn't eat

cartoon characters. i was meant

to spend the last night with tyler,

but instead i came back to spend it

under her starry ceiling, and again,

we laughed.