i.  security

Ours is a stainless steel life, sanitary,
unsmeared by sentiment;
Everything is trimmed neatly with a hedge clipper,
topiaries of kindness, duty, commitment.
Nothing is ever due: 
every bill paid the day it arrives;
tax returns projected out five years,
blanks filled in as the forms come in;
cars washed weekly, newspapers tied 
for recycling one Saturday a month.
Six dirty shirts on hangers go to the laundry on Friday 
and six clean ones on hangers come home.

There's no danger we'll go off any ecstatic cliffs together, 
no risk of getting lost in mystery;
travelers' checks still accompany us everywhere.
The bread will always be made from refined flour,
the table will always be set with spoons and forks, 
the water will always be safe to drink,
the bathrooms will be clean with soft paper, 
and we'll get a good night's sleep.
	
2.  communication 

Your speech wastes nothing -
  cuneiform wedge words,
  each stab making its point precisely,
  sharp-sticker-to-draw-blood-from-fingertips speech,
  Marine haircut speech
  shorn of shaggy connotations.
You could write your life story 
  on the back of a business card.

Talk Spanish moss speech! 
  fantastic extravagance 
  with no visible means of support -
Talk banyan tree speech!
  intricate roots lifting a wide canopy
 with plenty of room for interpretation -
Talk Caspian Sea speech!
  thick stew of flamingos and shrimp -
Talk honeycomb speech!
  many-chambered busyness 
  sticky and sweet -
Talk hawk speech and stork speech -
  cattle and snake speech -
  stalk of wheat speech!
I hunger to hear hieroglyphics.

iii. rites

Surrounded by vapor of silver polish and potato steam
I stack strips of bright vegetables,	
rub dusty goblets and cluck over chips,
scratch my nail against a speck on the china, 
pull the broad table board from the closet 
and drop it in place - depth of cloistered wood 
flanked by everyday pallor of sun and scrubbing,
and fine scratches of penny sacrifices 
slid between winners and losers;
iron the cloth, fold the napkins, fix the candles in the sticks.

These vessels and vestments have become holy.
This ritual must not be tampered with -
	 it has proven propitious.

iv. to our grown children, visiting

You are tourists here,
this is your history, not your home.
We move in the old ways,
     you in the new.
We are more patient with each other,
     you are less with us.
We accept accountability,
     you fight for independence.
We conserve, 
     you consume.
We are old, and have lots of time before we die.
You are young, and life is fleeting.

v.  night

I slip a musky panther pelt
	inside your pillowcase
so wild dreams stalk your sleep,
insinuate themselves
	into your hair,
slide you head first into life.

This wilder you moves easily
	into the dark,
hungry, hungry.

You wake.
You lift your nose
	and sniff the wind.
The untamed night and 
	infinite stars ignite you.   

vi.  marriage as seen from a plane over Gary, Indiana

The smoke, to an aerial eye, is suspended solid.
In chill stillness, plumes and wisps hold shape unchanged.

	Inside, 
	heat and cold collide 
	and roll together,
			     exhale, 
	expanding into atmosphere.

	Colored fumes of energy expended 
	reveal raw fuel and process,
	and particles thrown off in heat.

Change comes with current changes, slowly,
     except for small explosions now and then.