Tuesday, April 12, 2011

An Anniversary Poem

While you drive home --
the bush leaves are flowering
red and yellow like bell peppers
that line the market stands
along Rancho Vista Boulevard.

Sprinklers rinse the lawn. Water
twirls in the sun like a parasol
and I watch from the kitchen window.
Our guest who once painted
a woman in the garden at Saint Addresse
would like this scene. But he’s obsessed
with our walls and permanently haunts
the upstairs hallway.

I admire the lady in Claude’s painting.
She keeps her back to the viewer and leans
toward the skyline, blue pierced by poplar trees,
her heart by romantic thoughts.

And now my back is to you
watching our house from a distance. Soon
you will step inside, then discard the keys.
My body will spin on slender heels
and the light will gravitate a number
of degrees north , your tall presence
blocking the doorway while my lips
spread into sunset, a smile
that finalizes the day
with soft fire and this need to settle in.

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