By Margaret Rhee
That night the moon’s song was
Cupped by the edge of the plane’s hum.
The beginning soundtrack for our last meeting.
Throughout it all, your breathing slighted the mourning.
We lay, as the loose sand soon hooked
Into the concave of our backs. The ocean waves
Undulating, marking between us, my fast breath.
There is another line here, but I’m not sure
Where to locate it. I could have
Looked at the moon, asked for forgiveness,
But like you, I searched for meteors instead.
You taught me what they look like,
By verbal description, by whispers, and pointing but
Characteristically, I kept missing them.
Because I’m not so good with language,
Nor instructions, and saying goodbye
Where the ground, sea, and sky meet and depart.
Listen: I’m clumsy with my hands and feet.
I also don’t know how to clean a microwave.
And I’m not sure what to say to you anymore.
But that night, before I left, I learned on my own,
Without telling you: This is how you find meteors.
You have to take in the entire dark sky, (like viewing a landscape painting or
A movie screen), but let the frame blanket over our bodies until nothing is left.
Watch carefully, because meteors
Disappear in a glimpse, into the slender cock of your neck,
In my short eyelash flutter.
One by one, then another.
By the end, we are greedy.
We stop counting
As we clasp our hands,
Gulp in the disappearing us, then
Suffocated, strayed.
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My Monday was mostly about chores and some photo work, all of which got done except folding the laundry -- it always takes two cycles through the dryer here no matter what the settings or fabric weights. Since it was a lovely day, we also walked to Idylwood, where there were a decent number of people at the beach, and we spotted at least four turtles off the dock plus some ducklings.
We chose the Orioles vs the Cardinals over the Mariners vs the Yankees, though the latter ended up being better for the Os because the Mariners won with a late surge while the Orioles lost. In the evening we watched Knuckles because older son had told us about the Shabbat dinner/Hava Nagila fight scene and the Michael Bolton low budget rock opera! Here are our local geese and goslings:
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