Morning
A clutch of new mothers sit
Suckling, and their moony eyes
Cannot disguise the
Pleasure, more gentle than
Orgasm. This drawing out
Of mother’s milky love. For both
The world is this
Mystical transubstantiation.
The word is made
Fluid. The universe entire,
Condensed to this:
a nipple in a rosebud mouth, the suckling
and the milk.
2.
Out on the verandah
An eruption of fourteen year olds
Bolder than any brass you’ve ever seen
Outshine each other
In Clearasilliness. They jostle
In the drawback stakes
(One even blows smoke rings!)
They order lattes with their parents’ money
Sport the latest Nike footwear
Sip life and talk dirty
As if they invented
Love.
And watch, ever cautiously, to see
If anyone is watching them.
3.
Intense as a ringing mobile
Taut as a wire
Eyes flitting from face to watch to doorway
The Real Estate salesman chats personably
Hair VO5d this morning still in place
He is jovial, but hops from foot to foot, wondering
If his next sale is just around the corner.
4.
Lovers sit drinking
each other
staring into cappucinno froth
writing notes to each other from behind their eyes
5.
Some sit, staring into
childhood
Stirring
Emotions thick as mozzarella cheese.
6.
A poet lusts after
books on the shelves.
Longs for a poem to nurture
Wonders how the waiters can bear to smile
And dreams of reading a poem about mothers
Suckling their miracles
One evening at Volumes.