It's Wednesday.
Just like any other Wednesday
he sits across the wooden table
from me weaving my every word
together trying to make a
fabric(ation) of his own...
I didn't know he could sew
until I became the stretched
garment patterned after
the utterance of his voice
on a thread of white lies.
But, I guess I'm just happy
that he came back home.
Today is only Wednesday
and I placed a rather large
bowl of fruit 'tween us
...dividing the space and
light that fades from the
center of this very table--
Holding a round piece of fruit
'tween my hands -
I press firmly -- with sturdy
fingers digging into the thickness
of layered skin until I've peeled
away the sun-drenched morning
yellow from the pith.
I watch him as eye concentrate--
He looks at me. He notices the
deftness of fingers pulling as the
bitter white
is torn away.
I grin and smile a little
and unto him I say...
"This is how I see you." --
-- "This is how I feel you."
~ With thick skin and bitter layers
easily undone... and yet inside
this is how I find you -- uncovered ~
I take the pink fruit to my lips and pull
its flesh with my teeth until
citrus tears drip down my fingers and
each of them run along the backside
of my brown hands~~
I separate the pulp by pushing
the pit with my tongue and then
allowing it to fall onto a
mint green glass plate like glistening
opals in scattered light.
It's quiet. --
He takes a seed and rolls it
'tween his fingers like a thought
as he draws in the staleness of
procured air from a deep breath...
and he says to me,
"So. Tell me something good."
I look at him and answered,
"Today." ...
"Today ... is Wednesday."
(c) 2001 SOULOFASISTA
Just like any other Wednesday
he sits across the wooden table
from me weaving my every word
together trying to make a
fabric(ation) of his own...
I didn't know he could sew
until I became the stretched
garment patterned after
the utterance of his voice
on a thread of white lies.
But, I guess I'm just happy
that he came back home.
Today is only Wednesday
and I placed a rather large
bowl of fruit 'tween us
...dividing the space and
light that fades from the
center of this very table--
Holding a round piece of fruit
'tween my hands -
I press firmly -- with sturdy
fingers digging into the thickness
of layered skin until I've peeled
away the sun-drenched morning
yellow from the pith.
I watch him as eye concentrate--
He looks at me. He notices the
deftness of fingers pulling as the
bitter white
is torn away.
I grin and smile a little
and unto him I say...
"This is how I see you." --
-- "This is how I feel you."
~ With thick skin and bitter layers
easily undone... and yet inside
this is how I find you -- uncovered ~
I take the pink fruit to my lips and pull
its flesh with my teeth until
citrus tears drip down my fingers and
each of them run along the backside
of my brown hands~~
I separate the pulp by pushing
the pit with my tongue and then
allowing it to fall onto a
mint green glass plate like glistening
opals in scattered light.
It's quiet. --
He takes a seed and rolls it
'tween his fingers like a thought
as he draws in the staleness of
procured air from a deep breath...
and he says to me,
"So. Tell me something good."
I look at him and answered,
"Today." ...
"Today ... is Wednesday."
(c) 2001 SOULOFASISTA
AND RESPECT
... please make yourself at home ... 