New Poem

After Making Love, I Leave to Write a Poem


Already I am making myself lighter,
willing myself to our quiet, unlit office
where fallen hydrangea pedals litter my desk
and the rain leaks through a hole in the roof.
Here, I am most proud of my life:
the blessings of words, the way they shape
this house and the hours that move inside of it.
He knows I go to answer some grim wisdom
his body has pressed into me, perhaps
the new music made by our old bodies
while the night slides into silence.
I feel the bliss of blue, heavy-headed stalks
leaning closer and closer to earth. In this hour,
he is the vase in the room holding my flowers.

Comments

Catherine said…
Glad to see the August poem counter tick over to "1". Is the title a play on Galway Kinnell's "After Making Love We Hear Footsteps"? Or is that just a coincidence?
January said…
Thanks. The title of Galway's poem was in my head when I began, but that's where the similarities end.
Odessa said…
congrats on a new poem!
i love these lines:
"the blessings of words, the way they shape this house and the hours that move inside of it"
Anonymous said…
This is beautiful January...truly.
Anonymous said…
Good to see you. :) I particularly like the last two lines.
Rethabile said…
"the blessings of words, the way they shape
this house and the hours that move inside of it."

How do you do it? Sigh...

The ending kills with joy. Keep it up, don't stop.
Ananda said…
january. absolutely beautiful. i love this passage:

I feel the bliss of blue, heavy-headed stalks
leaning closer and closer to earth. In this hour,
he is the vase in the room holding my flowers.

your beloved husband is a wonderful sanctuary for your soul and poetry. that's what i get from your writing.
January said…
Thanks Ananda. He's a keeper!
January said…
Thanks everyone. Yes, I hope to keep up the momentum this weekend by visiting blogs and getting inspiration from your words and poems.

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