—Poems and Photos by Joyce Odam, Sacramento
COME AT ME FROM THE MORNING
come at me from the morning
I will meet you like a
shawl
slip under my arm
I will tell you my heart lives
and you must
save it
hear me tell
of my beautiful lame life
that I am comparing
to this hard life that no life
can follow
you are in wonder-light
a real hero
such a long mountain away
but we will marry
I am the place you come to
I am not tired of waiting
you are faithful
______________________
AS STRANGE AS LIGHT ON A DARK
MORNING
I am unable to feel my shadow
on the white mirror.
I am wavering with movement not my own.
How cold I feel.
Death puts its arms around me and I weep
and am not comforted.
(first pub. in Lines Against Death Mini-Chap, 2002)
_____________________
DECIDING THE MORNING
And who am I dreaming to become—
heaviest in sleep—lost in my own mind,
waking to a closet closing after me.
Where have I been,
and who,
and who were those others?
Start of the long day begins heavy
with a glance at the window
to see what sort of day I will enter.
What will I wear?
What will I do?
Which plan is more important than another?
____________________
IN THE MORNING
the sun will be lying
across the windowsill
and the cat will be
stretching herself awake
and the coins you left
on the table will be gone
for I am a thief
and poor as you
but you have given me
permission
because last night
you pressed my hand
that was still wet
from the tears on your face
come at me from the morning
I will meet you like a
shawl
slip under my arm
I will tell you my heart lives
and you must
save it
hear me tell
of my beautiful lame life
that I am comparing
to this hard life that no life
can follow
you are in wonder-light
a real hero
such a long mountain away
but we will marry
I am the place you come to
I am not tired of waiting
you are faithful
______________________
AS STRANGE AS LIGHT ON A DARK
MORNING
I am unable to feel my shadow
on the white mirror.
I am wavering with movement not my own.
How cold I feel.
Death puts its arms around me and I weep
and am not comforted.
(first pub. in Lines Against Death Mini-Chap, 2002)
_____________________
DECIDING THE MORNING
And who am I dreaming to become—
heaviest in sleep—lost in my own mind,
waking to a closet closing after me.
Where have I been,
and who,
and who were those others?
Start of the long day begins heavy
with a glance at the window
to see what sort of day I will enter.
What will I wear?
What will I do?
Which plan is more important than another?
____________________
IN THE MORNING
the sun will be lying
across the windowsill
and the cat will be
stretching herself awake
and the coins you left
on the table will be gone
for I am a thief
and poor as you
but you have given me
permission
because last night
you pressed my hand
that was still wet
from the tears on your face
SOFT RAIN POEM
Blue mottled street,
midnight
or so,
stars
smearing down
to the pavement
where
shadows
tremble,
tremble,
till
the light
begins to shift into gray
fusing with the grainy dawn.
____________________
THIS DARK-SKY MORNING
wobble-voiced again—
old morning rooster
what does he crow about
—ruling the silence
—comforting
the sleepless
with his unmelodic and
somehow plaintive crowing
____________________
FOUR A.M. AGAIN
The intrusive cat—at my elbow, attentive to
my silence, filling my space, cleaning her fur.
.
I must love what I love, but nothing fits—the
darkness has a crack of light, and the light has a
patch of darkness—fabric and thread, pulling
and holding.
.
Nothing is mine. It all belongs to the figments
and the realities—like this invisible mosquito—
so intrusive, so intrusive—to my poem.
____________________
Today's LittleNip:
DARK MORNING
The 6:30 bird
twirping nearby . . .
a late owl
with its mournful voice . . .
all so tentative—
all so brief and lonely . . .
___________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Joyce Odam for today's poems and pix! Our new Seed of the Week is "The Telephone Rang..." (Or should we make that smartphone?) Anyway, whether it's a text or an old-fashioned dingalingaling, some messages can still jolt us, for better or for worse. Send your poems/photos/artwork about this or any other subject to kathykieth@hotmail.com/. No deadline on SOWs!
