This poem was published by the Rio Review, Fall 2009. I wrote the first draft in 1993 as part of a poetry seminar in art school. The editors wanted several changes, some of which I agreed with, some I didn't. Here is the version I would have printed.
LIKE THE WEATHER
In the darkness
he murmurs
something about rain
his fingertips on her cool skin
flicker
like the light of one hundred
finches, parakeets, love birds
in Hawkes' Molotov cocktail
dream
whose feathers
swish and float
before the rush of fire
—This stillness
between them
a possibly skillful sound:
rain on the cool roof
wraps around the windows
as sheets twist
around bodies twined
tracing arcs
in the negative space
These moments
between seconds
the clock chatters quietly
tick-talks to itself
but its black thin arms
aren't moving
Hair and hips sway
to the tune of fingertips
or cold clock hands
The rain echoes the rhythm
of dying songbirds
against the glass
while quietly
between fingers
pressing
feather light
two pulses whisper
to each other
something about the weather.
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