Friday, February 29, 2008

Cranberry Lake

Cranberry Lake

An August sun baked our canoe
Where we had beached it, in the sand.
And, taking your small hand
Toward shade, I led you.

Or was it you, me,
Who followed, who led,
When gaily laughing, you said
This bunch here are portabellini?

This bunch of what? said I
Dumb as three brooms.
These here, see the mushrooms
‘Neath the tree where they lie?

How do you know this?
When I stopped you were shaken
Thinking me angry, mistaken
By my horrified bliss.

I have studied them, learned
What they are, from a book.
Now walking with you, I but look
And they appear, as if pages were turned!

Just then the chirp of a squirrel
Awoke us, for a silence had come
Upon your words, and by some
Strange magic I knew you were my girl.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

Thursday, February 28, 2008

I Do It Again

I Do It Again

The toe pads of my cat are pink as a fairy gown,
And sometimes I tug on the tufts of white hair
That emerge between each, and he looks at me
Thinking thoughts in English, lacking the vocal
Ability of course, but the message could not be
Clearer, Must you do that?
I do it again.
A twitch. Narrowed lids.
No, really. I can be just as comfortable over there.
I do it again.
Over on the couch as here on the bed with you.
I do it again.
A swat. And something like a sneeze.

Now he gets up and I anticipate the rejection.
The disdain.
Pretends he is stretching, but I know better.
He is leaving. Fake yawns. Oh, that is so fake.
There are other places, in this place, for him.
I hug my pillow, and we both sleep, apart.

Amazing though, how the clatter of food in the dish
Makes his morning. And the splatter of filtered
Water grants me that plaintive meow, Oh, I am
So dependent on you, Father.
I would tell you, but I am too busy eating.

And I bend to the very last moments
In my own home, cleaning my cat’s bathroom.
I do it again and again.

Knows nothing about give and take, my cat.
Only take. He is all about taking.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

Let Me Kiss Your Tongue

Let Me Kiss Your Tongue

What happened next, I love.

No questions. You did not hesitate.

Someone may have had something to ask.

But, oh. Dearest.

In that certain darkness, my eyelashes playing horizon
Drinking, drank up the spectacle of that glistening muscle

Emerging from your full-wet lips,

On my sentence.
No clarification.

The tip of it.

There on the atlas of you.

And I wrapped my lips on it.

Drawing off, to full blindness.

You, as sightless as I then, moaned.

Funny, something so concerned
With a certain sense, one of the five

Knocks out others, so essential.
And blind we rolled.

You are not someone.

You are you.

It was a test, by the way.

One which you could not have failed.

And did not.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Toilet Paper

Toilet Paper

This morning, elbows on knees

I gazed at a roll of it,

Wondering what the ancients did.
Long ago. Way before toilets even.
And which came first, the toilet

Or the paper?

All we really know is that

Everywhere, ubiquitously,
There is some -- or so we hope.

But it is even beyond hope.

We know it is there, it has to be.

Because we know that the need is.

Our own rumblings churn out

The evidence of things unseen.

Look at where it is perforated.

Who ever takes just one square?

Has even one human, done so?

Yet mathematically, design-wise
Let none tamper with perfection,
Nor alter the exquisite roll.
It should be on someone’s flag.

Today I looked upon civilization’s

One big unanimous agreement.

When it comes to this stuff, we

Are all fundamentalists.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

Sunday, February 03, 2008

Rare As Rubies

Rare As Rubies

See, my dad would have said
He sold money to people
When they needed it most.

He never called it insurance
Because he knew that no one
Believes in their own death.

But how many times he passed
A widow the cheque that mattered.
Or to a widower, handed it.

How many? Countless.
And then even he, as salesman
Went to be with his clients.

I remember him today as
The most honest man I yet know.
A seller of truth, rare as rubies.

I believe in my dad.
He promised no one insurance,
But assurance, yes.

He bought what he sold.
He sold what he bought.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

Two Decisions

Two Decisions

Look. I walk towards you, and the

World gets closer. Or further away.

Which is it? Did you take a step


See. I look up as I approach
And the clouds scatter. Or form.

Which is it? Did you take a step


Hear. There was a bird that sang

Just then. Or there was silence.

I am not sure now, did you

Hear it, too?

While that fountain played with us

And threw us in and out, I made
What is known as a decision.

Reaching to a peeling arbutus tree

I ripped a letter from it, and it

Tore and it tore clean in a strip.

Against my thumb, the underside

So smooth, nodded to me, and I

I looked into your two wet eyes.

I will write everything on this, I said,

As I handed you that bark.

And a bird we both heard whistled.
Did you take a step forward?

You did.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008