flock of poems; from May 2014

I
you never know when a storm of poetry might hit you
after 20 years
after too busy to brush my teeth
baby to nurse, cab to wake up for
in the dark
early morning ride to work
pumping milk behind the walk in cooler
eat sweet-cream butter and fresh squeezed orange juice
serve men from tyson chicken and
haliburton and the not so famous rich
take home flowers they leave,
maybe not even really seen.
so many flowers I let you tear the roses apart
on our black and white kitchen floor
while I cook dinner
and now all these years later
I can taste the moment
every glorious rich color
the feel of the floor under my feet,
the joy of seeing your beauty ringed in mosaic of petals

Now, not too busy to morn that no one else was there
to catch their breath with me
now not to busy to celebrate
to dance with it again on paper and share it.

II
Now I am not going to write advice
anymore
I am only going to fling poetry
like a child having a temper-tantrum
I am going to stop at the busy entrance of whole foods
and do nothing
just sit down on the floor and make everyone step over me.
or at least go around me
glancing back, they might
wonder
for a moment.
I am going to cry in the open
to scream and shout
beauty, love, us, everything!
I will kiss clichés and eat mixed metaphors
I will roll in corny, blacken in a tooth,
write “nigger”
stab myself with fear
God dam mother fucking shit.
I am alive, alive, alive.
I am no longer begging
or hopping
asking or telling.
I am wailing in pain
I am singing for joy,
and love.
and I am not scared of you
or pain
or rotting
under the ground.

III
first it was a trickle of poems
fresh,
quenching where the water had not run in years.
soon it was a storm of poems
a wild rush
waking me up in the night
banging on the windows

then it was a flock
swooping gracefully gathering around, bearing gifts
awe inspiring with intricate feathers and glowing wings.

then it was a swarm of poems
hitting me in the face
pestering me
if I opened my mouth they got stuck in my teeth and flew down my throat

and then almost as suddenly as they arrived
they floated up
past the yellow willow
into the sky
and landed on the great clouds
they told me,
and my eyes and my heart
and my tongue
“we are here,

we will always be here”