Sunstorm
We were like a sunstorm,
the sun broke
through the clouds in a flash
flood frenzy, drunk
on giddiness, on hope,
but I blinked and
it was gone
Before the ground had even tasted water,
it was drought.
Happy
It’s somewhere between cotton-swabs
And castile soap —
Bubbles on curves of a back
Muted pink, from the sorry-scratching —
It’s in warm ceramic cups, even the ones
That break on the tile,
Or have chips in the handles —
And it’s nowhere — it’s in the eyes I’ll always
Drown in — away from old rivers in
Old towns moldering away
Like stains on the sidewalk —
It’s in makeshift bookmarks —
Smiles from anonymous faces
And feeling flattered —
In letters that don’t feel the wrong
Weight, and fists that lose
Their mark — I’ve learned how to skip,
How to sing
The tunes I always knew —
I’d say I was back on track,
But I was always moving.
Magic Staircase
Red dress
Billowing over
Periwinkle ankles
On a sleek steep staircase,
On tiptoe she climbed
Until the picture frames
Grew tawny wings
And the chandeliers
Swayed to the music
Of her tip-tap
Toes.