Author: kmarieclark

The Great Oval Circles

A man can balance

at the edge of a mountain

hold only a ledge built into the rock

peer from behind a parapet

over a shrunken landscape

sheltered from a fall like a china dish

on a shelf without a lip.

.

Look down to the people ways

carved in continuous travel

hallways through the stone

down to the great oval

circles scribed in Siena

.

Walk along the mountain path

to the piazza in front of the church

where people dance:

hands speak

touch palm to palm

dance circles

in the piazza

Once in the church boys came from all directions

in the loft the sound of their young voices

approaching in a chorus in front of dusty sunlight

stretching through the windows

crowded in the pews

young children sat in the aisles

and on the altar steps

.

An older generation waited

closed eyes keep an open mind

a mass between neighbors

as open as the sky

listening to the faint sounds of a city in motion.

.

The sun made red stone steps at dusk

places to pray between rock and shadow

away with daily routine

surprise and gesture

keeping memory together

a beating heart pulsed.

He is so perfect, a little baby with soundless breath, a head to fit in your palm, so small, a new life bloomed a whole new world, how can life go on without being centered around him?

Swaddled arms he pulls close to his face. Big eyes, so alert to voices, he looks, lips smacking. Mothers sweet words and Dad’s strong arms. The parents know what they are doing, and no one questions that.

He is a quiet miracle, literally lifted from the womb.

I feel the baby’s heart, pull him close to feel mine, and touch his chest with my pressed fingertips to feel his heart, but instead feel the quickened breath of his small but serious life.  I can’t stop thinking about his small face, his little body and his big wondering eyes.

Spring Fever

head tilted
slide horizon
tip toe puddles
It rained all April.
.
We climbed up a ladder,
tightly wound
like he slid into a hole
from the ground.
.
An envelope licked, held shut
we were close,
his hands drove down
a bare neck, a
soft shoulder
.
Molding clay,
softly rolled between the palms.
.
The chalky taste of the moon
caught in our throats.

Love was in the Rivers

Rivers he took me to at the small shores of Virginia each year.
Every year at this time we were closer to being older.
Being older as wiser and similar people.
Similar people, older, wiser, changed and refreshed.
Refreshed in the semblance that the river could never lose its name.
At least the name would always be the same.

Summer of 2006

I thought dating someone new

could stand up to my looming memories

sailing in Annapolis

New Jersey shores just north

where candle evenings were

buried in the sand.

.

Criss-crossed blankets were over, a lot

of time passed since then.

Memorized hips and feet felt like new,

kisses too were changing my memories.

.

I wondered if time could pass this

and replace it with new people

never knowing me then

these memories dying

were hard on me now.

.

I looked for new qualities

possessed in the realms of a new person,

not you,

writing me letters,

likewise,

not mentioning any one else

you were forgetting,

.

so we could

say we did

keep going.

What Good Friends come With

fresh breath from the winds of winter

the first frost finds a hot coffee among it

a quaint little school where we sent our children off to learn

to meet other children

set among hills in Virginia

.

one day of my childhood

where I remembered boredom as a great thing

breakfast on my grandmothers porch where my sister and I built puzzles

or looking up at a magnificent blue sky

from within the shade of Louisiana

.

the first time I saw an Italian villa within the grove

the gardens of England

or saw my best friend get married

.

the small castle town in France

where a woman fell in love

an age when I could explain what friends meant

who they were

where they would belong

experiences that passed through

when I moved and found the first person to belong to

.

when I learned to dance and was asked

for the first time

it was learning him

everything I’d forgotten

seeing the sun rise up

.

early in Como

my sister and I woke up

to breathe the air and walk

.

it was buying gifts

in Switzerland shops

for my loved ones

when I realized more than anything

in the world

I enjoyed thinking of them.