(First, I have to say that the spacing of writing poetry on WordPress is too spaced for my taste; I prefer my lines more compact. I have no other complaints with the format of the blog, though (other than I sometimes have trouble embedding media). Maybe someone out there knows a solution to my spacing and media formatting issues they could share? 🙂 Second, I am stalling because I haven’t shared poetry publicly for years. Literally. I barely even write it anymore unless an image or mood strikes. (I did try my hand at a little spoken word poetry after listening to Sarah Kay’s TED Talk, but that’s for another day.) Anyway, here is a little piece I wrote the other morning about 2 a.m.)
Darkness to Light
Sometimes our toes mingle
At the appropriately named foot
Of the bed we’ve shared for almost a decade
They brush together,
Like timid fingers on a first date
Intertwining over cuticles, around layers of polish, and rough spots which were once smooth.
I love this choreography we perform each night between sheets which push down our feet, when toes sometimes join to fight the oppressive force of the mighty panel of white fabric (tucked in a hospital corner, of course).
When light streams through the window, the dance of eventide ends, and
Toes once bound by proximity are released to their own ends of socks, clogs, flip-flops, boots, running shoes. (Most of the time I prefer mine bare.)
Still, when the darkness returns, they find each other again, like lovers after a long separation
Where they again intertwine as if on the first night oh-so-long-ago….
Someone once asked, “When your lover dies, what will you miss most?”
Myriad answers filled the air: his smile, her hair, his hands everywhere.
I shrugged to speak my answer, but I find it every night when he is gone.
I would miss his toes intertwining with mine, dancing this dance between panels of white.
Who will help me greet the morning if he is no longer here?