Staceyann Chin

Three Days...

... to rest and I used it well
for errands
and visiting

lunches
lamb
and tabouli

exhausted I begin again
some mornings
I rise to the challenge hampster

the clear edge of a beautiful dawn
crisp
in one of the Carolinas

Charlotte
and the flu

raging molasses in my muscles
my blood

my chest tightens
and my throat errupts

coughing is no joke
beef and broccholi
theraflu

one tangerine given to me by a girl
spinning tunes on a table

nights are always hard
the degree of difficulty increases when you are ill

and moving
in bus and plane

no trains on this trip
this side of the Atlantic

I wish I had the constitution
for drugs

or large amounts of alcohol
I understand the need for drowning

pools of wet oblivion
beckon

only I do not have the guts to go
suffer through this body being
unfaithful

fickle
changing its mind

I wish I could be like a juniper tree
constant and beautiful

I miss myself
wide-eyed

and filled with the hope of a young wonder
today

is a day for reckoning
and it is almost two months since I have been in love

and I am not convinced that I was
without poetry
without the blinders of being too close

I wish to reassess
my definition of falling

apart
or in love

or from grace
time to back-track and begin the race again

court me
lavish gifts on my own body
baths

and scented lotions
I vow to have a massage every time I have
the urge

I will procure
things of color

and blaze them fury
through my day

remind myself
that there are things blooming

elsewhere

hibiscus
and croton

joseph coats
and marigolds

sunflowers even

things are not dead everywhere
things

are not

dead everywhere
hope lingers sturdy in places like Johannesburg

and my apartment
and Munich
and Cologne has not seen my breath in too long

hello Lisa
and Larah

my loves existing dual in so many cultures
you are as beautiful

as the first snow imprinted with the feet of children
laughing

I long to see you
Brent

Anna
my sisters in Jamaica

Racquel
it was good to hear your heart yesterday
Chaun
thank the gods for instant messages

Janelle
I am so proud of your hands busy
with the business of growing up
growing up
stunning

I am coming home soon
for a sit-down by the sea

maybe a festival or two
some escovietched fish

a piece of jerk something
maybe

and a whole lot of laughter
and memories
from a time we will never have

but new memories have to be made
and there is only
so much space in the belly of spirits

till next time
I am here

surviving the craze disguised as the flu
Staceyann

Posted by staceyann at November 29, 2004 09:54 AM