Wednesday, April 21, 2010

I'm Right There With You, Sister

After a Noisy Night


by Laure-Anne Bosselaar


The man I love enters the kitchen
with a groan, he just
woke up, his hair a Rorschach test.
A minty kiss, a hand
on my neck, coffee, two percent milk,
microwave. He collapses
on a chair, stunned with sleep,
yawns, groans again, complains
about his dry sinuses and crusted nose.
I want to tell him how
much he slept, how well,
the cacophony of his snoring
pumping in long wheezes
and throttles—the debacle
of rhythm—hours erratic
with staccato of pants and puffs,
crescendi of gulps, chokes,
pectoral sputters and spits.
But the microwave goes ding!
A short little ding! – sharp
as a guillotine—loud enough to stop
my words from killing the moment.
And during the few seconds
it takes the man I love
to open the microwave, stir,
sip and sit there staring
at his mug, I remember the vows
I made to my pillows, to fate
and God: I'll stop eating licorice,
become a blonde, a lumberjack,
a Catholic, anything,
but bring a man to me:
so I go to him: Sorry, honey,
sorry you had such a rough night,
hold his gray head against my heart
and kiss him, kiss him.

8 comments:

  1. your blog is lovely and inspires me greatly.

    thank you.
    xoxo
    erimentha

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  2. So sweet (and appropriate), I'll have to remember it when I'm a little cranky after one of those nights.

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  3. My sweetie can wake the dead with his night songs.....(I'm being kind)
    And we work to a different rhythm....I am a night owl, and he a morning glory....so we sleep, soundly, separately....smiles.

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  4. oh my God, this could be me!

    Came across you from the musings of a mercurial woman. Glad I did!

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  5. wow! great poem- awesome conclusion!

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  6. Always best to hold one's tongue for a bit. (For the night-time cacophony, we moved to separate sleeping arrangements. Much more peaceable.)

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  7. They could sleep through an atom bomb, couldn't they! I'll remember to 'hold his gray head against my heart', each morning. Poignant line for me. Thanks.

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  8. ~A short little ding! – sharp
    as a guillotine—loud enough to stop
    my words from killing the moment.~

    This speaks to me. I wonder how I can get a ding to occur at the exact moment I need one.

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Hey, thanks for your thoughts and your time:>)