The Belly Remembers

After the banging pain
of the secret language of the body,
after years of studying
other people’s neediness—
putting my own voice
often at the back of the line,

it occurs to me
that any normal heart,
even with delayed reactions
and stunted growth,
can become drunk
with light.

It might be like going to the punch bowl
too many times, fetching happiness
for someone else
and without even noticing
in the dancing through the crowds
of merrymakers and observing
other wiser women from the corners
where wallflowers bloom

I am not living in the house
where a slow death is certain,
but instead intoxicated with eyes open,
with the belly warm and full
and remembering
these tremors,
this convulsing quake
is unexpected joy,

laughter in remembering
exactly who I am.

Civil Twilight

At the blue hour,
at the union where night and day
have come together in exquisite love
to bow humbly
to the light that generates
at the edges of the ocean,

I have traveled
across the distances
of belief and healing
to witness the offerings
of bride to groom.

She washes his feet.
He gathers the gentle face
into his hands;
kisses eyes,
cheek,
and the full and pink
lips of the beloved

just before she bursts
into morning.