July 3, 2015

4th of July, 2011. {Poem}

 Flickr/Cajsa Lilliehook: https://www.flickr.com/photos/cajsa_lilliehook/18750626211/in/photostream/

You smelled like roses this Fourth of July.

You wore a lavender dress and a lavender bandanna.
I had lavender oil on
my armpits.

We must have smelled three hundred roses in the afternoon
in the garden in the rainy city on a sunny day.

On the side of a hill we gulped down the last bits
of sunshine.
The tarot cards in the grass told us nothing
we didn’t already know.

At home on the sheepskin
in the living room
your eyes were dark seaweed.
Your head rested on my chest.
The skin of your cheek was soft
against the skin of my wrist while I stroked your head.

The neighbor’s dog barked inside.
The fireworks banged outside.

You had just painted your nails.
I had just shaved my head.
Neither of us did a very good job.

“What do you call that color,” I said, tapping your fingernail, “Aqua?”
“Like sea foam washing up on the shore,” you said.

I look into you to see beyond you.
I see your organs and arteries and wet bones
and I see all your electrons as spaceships.

I’m always trying to see you
in your truth
as a traveler through The Universe.

You look at the space around me
always slightly grinning
at the angels who are always shining
their blue lights around my head.

My hand leaves your face to write this poem.
You pick up a guitar.

We both sing with our mouths closed
filling the silence with our souls.



Why July 4th is worth honoring not just celebrating:

Recipe for Moving On.


Author: Thomas E. Speers

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: Flickr/Cajsa Lilliehook

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