Your Body is my Museum of Youth


I am dumb beside your body
I could once speak words, so beautifully
But poems, were once beautiful

Now I feel life’s kite moving
Upwards and onwards
You love because it pulls you

To Motherhood, to creation
I am dumb beside the challenge
Of winning your affection

To become only a tool, a means to an end
Until someone finds me, I shall be
The lonely hunter, contracting with solitude

I am dumb beside your instincts
They speak more loudly, than my lyrics
Unworthy and pure, poetry
Is for the flowers I left on the ground
In my meditations of youth.

You on Your Native Soil


36

I bring you flowers/
Invisible spiritual flowers
They hold on to colors of Bliss
Like nothing else, perhaps jewels
They stack, with the investment of years

You had your father’s eyes/
You’ve got my flowers, forever
No matter what happens, between us
You’ll carry the strongest legacy

The most beautiful smiles/
In your children, so be it
I’ll bring you flowers, for the rest
Of our private Eternity
They were moments we
Had nothing truly, but each other

Spring is starting again, I can feel/
It in your womb, the way you itch
For nests, admiring tulips
Your grandfathers passed recently
They did all they could to demonstrate
To posterity, their families, their acts
Were like demonstrations,

To the little lovely young girl names/
That we sometimes talk about
Before bed, I’ll bring you baby-names
In your dreams, wet with the water
Of budding gardens, grand tomorrows.