Stasis




She the cat swarms about my ankles, affectionate & sexual



saying goodnight Closing the bedroom window to the night



The rails of this banister are like my life; but listen



I lean forward to pet the cat and tip over



Cleaning out a final drawer; my winter chores are done



Sorting through old socks; now my winter chores are done



Three we sit together, sharing solitude, practicing patience



My headless bathrobe faces the wall



Hairy baby I cup my lukewarm breast, I



He the cat kneads prick pricking my belly ow



Bed is just bed, and I am just I, lying in it



She the cat begging tiny teeth opening pink tongue lashing






A neighbor's window lights.  Dying day; and it's still winter



What's this new knuckle on my knuckle?  Oh arthritis



Picking up my dirty socks, I'm throwing them into a basket



At the snowy window, still & again, birds coming to feed



Right now, hands folded, I'm looking at my thumbs



Far away I hear a whistling sound






Spring beckons – icicles cry yourselves away



Under mauve-colored clouds empty branches filigreed with impatient buds



I scratch my elbow and wait – that timeless time of evening



The blinds were uneven; I corrected them



Playing gin rummy so long with the computer I'm winning



One long dead branch is all that's left:  it's snowing



Through my window other windows; in between, falling snow



Furred, the neighbor's roof, with snow – like an old man



The blank bed, freshly made, looks very still






I don't like that woman she keeps smiling that way



Half-asleep in the shower wet dream, another snowy morning



Did it give you pleasure, old man, sitting in your room alone



So many of us, I see you in weary bus stations, eyes closing






Two shovels, leaning up against my neighbor's house, half buried in snow



Sunlight on white – bright.  Bright



Why more snow? Why more snow? the birds sing and sing



Faces on my knuckles, puckering



At the bottom of the snowy sky this old man looking



Clouds reflected in a passing window I turn to see



That patch of snow on the neighbor's roof:  elephant/mouse



Bluely glows the evening sky, and the street the cement the snow



I'm watching a poem turn to ash



Bright sliver of a moon, cradled in the empty tree



Wiping an eyelash away, sheets crinkling, and my back, my toes






Small islands of half-dead grass; snowy crusts dusted with dirt



And were there birds?  I mean spring ones out in the cold



My spine twisting like an empty branch under a windowed sky



A guest can linger too long at the door, winter



Climbing the stairs, my old flanks waggling



A cup of tea bleh! gone cold



A cup of tea, grown cold



I'm housebound now, but soon . . .



It will be spring.  Spring will be, say the clouds



Outside my window, a chill wind scatters their laughter





~ END ~








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