Issue 14
Ode to the Night and the Morning Following an All-Day Day of Arguing

Rejoice for the thick turn of wrist          for nut brown skin          and the black coils matted under the wristband

                    Rejoice for the smoothness of the cheek pressing into the pillow for the Picasso-esque

                                                  Close-up of the lover with three eyes

For the hand that knows just where to tempt                    For fingers flying over the keyboard of the body

                    Rejoice for the willows slow-dancing slow, slow, slow-dancing slower in the moonlight

For the leg pressed into leg and the high-pitched whine of blue notes sliding out of an 18-wheeler

                                                          down-shifting out on the highway like a harmonium

                    For the familiar mouth and whispers having finally replaced the god-endless pontification

Rejoice for the chickadees chikkerring low in the bushes                    for the dead mosquito no longer zizzing

                    Rejoice for shadows half painted in moonlight          for the night grass gossiping to the neighbors

                              For the moon sneaking in, under, around, and through the branches

                                                          For the moss bed hidden down by the water

    Rejoice for the willows fingering the edge of the shoreline       for the basso profundo of a slow moving freighter

                                        and for sweat and juices pooling in all the right crevices

                    Rejoice for the moon and the planets and the morning stars sneaking into the bed with us

                              For nights that end too quickly          for a hot wind and sheets kicked into a tangle

                        For the cool side of the pillow and the blue jay shrieking Me, me, me ME

loud enough to obscure the cry of arching bodies from the neighbors

                    Rejoice for the sound of the oud and the cimbalom and the click of a CD still skipping

                    Rejoice for the DNA of thick ankles                        for eyes dark and quick as a sparrow’s

              Rejoice for the new sun in the cattails              For poppies pole-dancing in their upside-down red skirts

                                                          For irises with their beards jutting

    And rejoice the whisper of breeze cozying up again to the willows begging for the slow dance to start over.