After the Rape and Anorexia
Driving to town for matinees,
Spending a few hours on some backyard swings.
Leaves fall outside the screen door
And at thirty six I tell you I have finally learned color.
Riding cycles, old and certain of themselves.
Watching the long, flimsy worms wiggle their way through life,
As we collect tomatoes barefoot singing in the garden.
Your fingers break a baguette under a smoky maple.
Under the small of the sun, we lay on our backs and rub our bellies.
Later, we’ll swirl blue with white and red and find just the right combination
And paint a purple sky.
Barely breathing, we pant after racing to the top of the hill.
Later, we’ll wear old slippers and drink peppermint tea
Underneath the moon and no one will tell us
We should smile more. And
There will be no more whispering in corners
Or phone calls when we feel no one is listening.
We’ll make gardens on the window ledges
So every time we stare deep out into the world
We’ll see tulips and not
The things that quietly defeated
the children we once were.