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Category Archives: Poems

Baby shower conversation

What’s your favorite vacation
spot, you ask
her–
the grown woman with no
kids
at the baby shower–
from
behind
a pink balloon.
Island, city,
country?
The
beach, perhaps
or the mountains?
Paris is
lovely
any time of year,
really.

She smiles and keeps
her mouth
shut.
Later, outside on the
playset with the
kids,
She tells
the
squirrels and the
toddlers.

Her happy place, her
vacation spot,
if you will,
is negative space.
Found in plastic and yarn
Jesus
bookmarks
and
the white in Escher painting,
or is it the black?
The emptiness that makes
life real
Is where she
plays.

Negative space is quiet.
Only the tiny waves
crashing
inside the white  noise
sleep machine.

Nothing to see, either, in
negativeland.
Except, of course ,
images of
thoughts, pursuing
themselves
across the
flat terrain
tucked behind your
eyelids.

Nothing against your skin,
The air evelopes you snuggly,
uninterrupted by
any other than your own
mortal
coil.

No scents invade your nostrils,
which are slightly
flared
with excitement.
No pesky molecules scraping against
tender follicles.

Youre mind is
blank and
you are free.
No obligations
Nothing to say or
apologize
for.

The black cat is
oblivious to the
broken vase
It has just encouraged to
fall,
Nonchalant.
Borges would be
proud.
I smile as well,
at the
nonchalance
Just the slight quiver of her
tail
at the sound of the
crash.

She’s a brave cat,
this Salem.
She’s tiny.
She sleeps, dreaming, most of the time.
But sometimes–
usually at night,
in the dead
of night–
she leaves the big
double bed.

She walks, head high,
cautious but
careless,
into the living room
full
of dogs.

The dogs aren’t mean,
per say,
as a matter of course.

But they’re big
and
bumbling,
and curious.
They
try,
so hard,
To be
friends,
To play,
To include her
in their
fun.

So every once in a while,
she does.
She shares their space,
standing tall,
Shaking from tip to
tail.
Excited, anxious,
maybe a
bit shy.