Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Waiting After Midnight
I wanted white roses. I wanted rain to
come in the window. The sky was gray
and the moon had disappeared,
the cherries were sweet and chilled.
The roses wept, the rain dripped
down the pane and the
phone never rang,
the bowl filled with cherry pits
and my fingers were crimson.
The moon blew away the clouds
and silvered my solitude,
my pearly body opaque and bold.
I remember the tears
you spilled into the cup of my breasts
to drink when I am thirsty,
the scent of damp earth,
the way the white curtains
rose and fell.
(c) Wendy Brown-Baez Ceremonies of the Spirit