Inumbro

I cast a shadow, therefore I am.

A Different Kind

I left you for a few months, we ran across the sea

I left you to find yourself in the London fog

write your history 

drown your sorrows in green, in leaves, in Blue Moon 

and whisky

in a third-story flat, a five-hour train ride from 

my Scottish hideaway

where I lost the world of leaves and vines for the dry free of sky

When I visited you found yourself drunk and confused, saying goodbye

outside the flat door - your eyes were asking but your hands 

and your mouth didn't wait for confirmation.

I let your lips find mine and we found different answers to your question.

I watched you follow your vine down the banister and 

outside to the tree-less streets, lost. 

On the train the next day I realized you've never really seen the sky.

I could understand - sun in your eyes - confusing clouds with leaves.

Showers

My stomach makes a hollow drum sound under my palm

I stand wrapped in my towel, searching hangers for stomach-covers

something to soften the smack of the drum to a pitter patter

My hair drips Pantene-scented rain into the groove between my shoulder blades,

sliding down into the threads that knit together my bra and underwear.

Later that day I walk through the door in the hall, crossing from the stairwell with 

the light-colored banisters

to the stairwell made of dark mahogany

Pushing through to the dark side my eyes are at door-knob level and meet your

stomach

bare,

with a towel wrapped and tucked in around your hips and only 

a foot or so away from my hesitating 

hands still pushing through the mahogany frame

- I follow the door through and past you so your eyes can only

hold mine long enough not to see the drumming

the first of may

we stopped on the shore next to the bonfire,
arms surrounding waist and shoulder, the wild north sea
watching as we faced each other
i looked up and he kissed me,
and we ran into the sea as if the fire was chasing us down the sand
ran into the sea towards the sunrise,
flamy pink haze greeting our morning as our legs go numb from cold

i waited for you on the stairwell in my invisibility cloak, covered in moons and stars and nebulae
you took too long so i left for tea and biscuits
but kept waiting
invited myself in and let you take the invisibility cloak off and throw it on the floor
along with my cashmere sweater

Grapefruits are suddenly easier

-- grapefruits are suddenly easier --

annette and i ordered a box of fresh grapefruits once a year,
fresh from florida summers
somehow their orange halos survived the flight to new england
the box glowed
on the kitchen table like the sun had left a stray golden hair
mixed in with fruits and flowers from the picking

she told me to let my hair dry before i brushed it
she liked the texture,
ran her fingers through it even when i winced and complained
that her hands would muss my braid

- i sat in her windowsill for hours and never wilted

Statue on a Fence

Today I became a statue on a fence
the sun melted my sweater into my neck
I was watching shadows crawl across the clifftop,
falling into the crags left by the tide - they crossed in lines, in slow motion,
opposite the direction of the clouds.
There was a statue on a bench near me,
perfectly solidified - he studied the line where the sea met the sky
while I tried to sketch it on a page, comparing high tide to low.
A dog passed and stopped to sniff my skirt,
to check if the statue was one he knew.