Plain Light
A poem for June
I stood face to face with her.
Little flame of June, she hovered
in my plain light and fought
the gale of my breath.
I didn’t know my power then,
the hummingbird making me
a promise, then rushing off
to put herself out. I’ve asked you
to watch the stove but you’ve fallen
asleep. The smoke is a poem now,
climbing in its bunk bed, leaving
toy trains going all across the floor.
I mother gray wisps that grow
taller in their sleep. Love
is one of many great fires,
a poet mocks. Breakfast is burned.
We open the windows and sit out
on the lake. Today, God,
we’re old enough to bring life
vests, young enough to push
ourselves overboard.
We float belly up, living
the same day in June over
& over, and watch the sun go
down in its old spectacular
ways. You hold me
as the tides yell.