Paper Eggs and Salt

 

After we cut out paper eggs,

Hazel said, “Each one needs an animal and a color.”

I said, “Sometimes when we put colors together we make new ones.”

She tilted her head to the side, “Don’t be silly, Baba.”

I felt the jolt of being told that before.

It hadn’t felt quite as pleasurable then.

Maybe years teach you to embrace silliness.

She concentrated because she knew about scissors now.

I watched and felt a protective urge each time an angle presented danger

 

When we made lunch, she told me that her noodles needed salt.

The she said, “Don’t tell my mom that I used the salt.”

“Why?”

“She might get mad.”

“Why?’

“Just don’t say anything, Baba.”

I wondered about secrets and the conspiracy of whispers

In a stage of infancy.

My daughter came home and Hazel said,

“Mommy, I used the salt.”

When I come apart, some people will say

Those dreams were foolish anyway

When I come apart, I’ll leave a trace

Like the end of a line that time will erase

 

Some doors of perception close slowly

And others are slammed

Some are propped open,

Some come off their hinges

 

If you come apart, I wonder what you feel.

When you come apart, do you become less real?

You come apart in fragments that try to adhere

Then maybe you just disappear

Unicorn sprinkles on a chocolate cake

Strawberry angels dancing on a lake

Hotdogs and beans, yogurt and chips

Love is a goodnight hug and kiss

 

Peppers and tomatoes on a garden vine

It hurts a little sometimes

When I have to say goodbye

Rainbow ice makes my tongue feel fine

I just love this little life of mine

 

Horses and Vikings smile for me

Ice cream salad and warm honey

They say I’m too sweet but you know me

I’m just who I’m supposed to be

 

Giraffes and dinosaurs sing in the breeze

Owls say hooo, Dragons say please

I imagine what I believe

And I love you when you love me

Do you want to come and play with me?

 

 

Yummy yummy in my tummy

Mommy calls me her little bunny

Butterfly kisses on soft cheeks

I’ll capture you when you reach for me

Twirling laughter on a pineapple piece

Verona

Out the North window

tops of trees emerge from a mist

The fog is drawing away

First a fullness, then a line,

Detail and blending

 

Bending like a taken path

Leading my eyes

Impatient with the haze

Curling northward towards the stars and the night

 

The steamed windows to the East cloud a view of the sea

Slapping against old wood and hoisted nets

 

To the West lies the land

To the South the past

 

At the navel

Knotted and constantly washed

We sit incongruously leaning

and turning

Covering each other daily

We speak of our distractions, confusions, and needs

Half in their own submerged world

Jerked squirming to the deck

Sporadic

 

“What do you see?” she asks.

Curling her parted thighs beneath her

 

A smile spreads like a breeze on her face

Her freckles pop out like the sun

“My body feels like a post

Almost covered in sand.”

She says, “Talk to me specifically.”

“My body is hot wood and sand.”

 

She says, “If we buy a dog, will you teach her to love me?”

“What would you teach her to do to me?”

 

I think about her feet and her toes begin to twitch.

There is a sense of advantage that could lead to betrayal

The Structure of the arms corresponds with the structure of the legs.

Thomas Mann

from The Magic Mountain

 

The picture hangs on a fading wall.

From the time they were born, they could never die

And only her image has filled his eyes.

 

How they have grown so fast, so old.

He says, “You don’t look as bad as I do.”

She answers him always with a smile.

“Remember the rude hands that poked at me, here?

Remember how they laughed?”

He remembers nothing but her face,

her worldly  look and her slender waist

that gathers her white legs in

while her arms are held out to him.