Morning Satori

 

At dawn

u get up to meet

those morning noises:

 

coffeemaking,

bathtubfilling with

scaldhotwater

 

to immerse yourself

under suds,

dog leg scratch

drummingdafloor,

my snore probably

resonatingirritating

through blank, black

dreamspaces,

I awake

sensing u soft, warm,

& gone, going

about your morning ways,

under covers I’m warm,

but the space about me,

     cold,

always dis-oriented

at night turning

to light,

the cat in me comes out

& all the dog wants to do

is sleep at my feet,

you’re quiet,

moving about the house,

haunted,

& I must get up

to watch u bathe

& rework

familiarity of word

& touch, I can’t seem

to get enough of,

that a shadow of

bleeding & pleading

sometimes crosses

between us, wordless,

resounds withe space

between atoms,

careless clusters of

ordered warmth

& flesh, not

reassuring at all

as thought.

 

I think of burnished

silver, lapis,

pearl, your smile,

deep black polar

night, your hair,

scintillating

dark, your eyes,

and I’ve seen

lightning churned

up in green froth,

by the big grey boat

unbound on the sea

I happened to be riding on,

3:59 a.m., and auroras

swirling in its wake,

all those lights in your eyes

of ice, conifers, eskimos,

and embraces

at absolute zero.

 

© Richard Holbrook