The Summer Day (with apologies to Mary Oliver)
this morning I woke
to feel you
gone the electricity
not turned on
just the gas burners’
blue jellyfish flame
I resist the urge
to rest my palms
on that heat
to feel something
other than
numb the summer sky
is impossibly blue
like a mood
or a vein
or the hem
of the robe of an
apparition you’ve been
ghostly lately
wandering
through the halls
of my body
where I feel
empty the memory
of your touch
is a hive of bees
under my skin
an itch where
I can’t reach
to scratch I pray
for a scrim of steel
colored air
the way farmers pray
for rain you mirror
the storm clouds
inside me
the way ocean
mirrors sky
yet I don’t feel
as vast or as open
but small and
contracted
like a star
imploded the light
that reaches me
is an old story
of a heart
broken over
and over I wonder
if the shallows I saw
when last I looked
into your eyes
is a mirror
of what I can’t
seem to feel
anymore the way
desire reaches me
like the pale starlight
of an old story
turned to a myth
or untruth in its
telling how many times
have I whispered
the words
cerulean azure
ultramarine indigo
when what I really
meant to say
was “I love you”
and even that
fades into
a color as drab
and ordinary
as wallpaper
which reflects the blue
jellyfish flame
of the gas burners
I resist the urge
to rest my palms on
since lately my hands have
been missing the heat
of your body
stretched over me
like the impossibly
blue sky of a languid
summer afternoon
Dilemmas With God
I met God on the Garden State Parkway she was stranded by the side of
the highway cars rushing past her towards the beaches and sunburn
she did not have AAA or jumper cables she was not in the mood
for miracles so she rambled into the bushes of poison ivy
and wild blueberry she could survive on fruits and nuts
and no water because she was, afterall, God
I asked if she wanted a ride she said she was where she was meant
to be broke down in a state of waiting I took that to be a lesson
gave her my business card said if she ever needed a petsitter
she should call me she said
“silly, I call you all the time I’m always on the landline and smart phone
of your mind but you never pick up there’s often a busy signal
and your voice mail is full”
I said that was something to ponder and gave her
the plastic crucified jesus from my dashboard
in case she needed a talisman
a good luck charm a relic
“oh that son of mine” she sighed he’s such a practical joker”
“all you need is already given” she said and popped a
blueberry into my mouth it tasted like hope
she turned her Thunderbird into a raven flew into the perfect
blue above the bumper to bumper traffic
one black feather floated down
and landed on my head
I knew then I was forgiven my lack of faith
I knew then that I was blessed
When Patti Sirens is not writing poetry she’s in the ocean or in the garden and sometimes in a lot of mischief. She’s also a d.j., a pet massage therapist, and works for the Santa Cruz Public Library. Being out in nature is what inspires much of her writing, as well as the crows that visit every morning for breakfast.
this morning I woke
to feel you
gone the electricity
not turned on
just the gas burners’
blue jellyfish flame
I resist the urge
to rest my palms
on that heat
to feel something
other than
numb the summer sky
is impossibly blue
like a mood
or a vein
or the hem
of the robe of an
apparition you’ve been
ghostly lately
wandering
through the halls
of my body
where I feel
empty the memory
of your touch
is a hive of bees
under my skin
an itch where
I can’t reach
to scratch I pray
for a scrim of steel
colored air
the way farmers pray
for rain you mirror
the storm clouds
inside me
the way ocean
mirrors sky
yet I don’t feel
as vast or as open
but small and
contracted
like a star
imploded the light
that reaches me
is an old story
of a heart
broken over
and over I wonder
if the shallows I saw
when last I looked
into your eyes
is a mirror
of what I can’t
seem to feel
anymore the way
desire reaches me
like the pale starlight
of an old story
turned to a myth
or untruth in its
telling how many times
have I whispered
the words
cerulean azure
ultramarine indigo
when what I really
meant to say
was “I love you”
and even that
fades into
a color as drab
and ordinary
as wallpaper
which reflects the blue
jellyfish flame
of the gas burners
I resist the urge
to rest my palms on
since lately my hands have
been missing the heat
of your body
stretched over me
like the impossibly
blue sky of a languid
summer afternoon
Dilemmas With God
I met God on the Garden State Parkway she was stranded by the side of
the highway cars rushing past her towards the beaches and sunburn
she did not have AAA or jumper cables she was not in the mood
for miracles so she rambled into the bushes of poison ivy
and wild blueberry she could survive on fruits and nuts
and no water because she was, afterall, God
I asked if she wanted a ride she said she was where she was meant
to be broke down in a state of waiting I took that to be a lesson
gave her my business card said if she ever needed a petsitter
she should call me she said
“silly, I call you all the time I’m always on the landline and smart phone
of your mind but you never pick up there’s often a busy signal
and your voice mail is full”
I said that was something to ponder and gave her
the plastic crucified jesus from my dashboard
in case she needed a talisman
a good luck charm a relic
“oh that son of mine” she sighed he’s such a practical joker”
“all you need is already given” she said and popped a
blueberry into my mouth it tasted like hope
she turned her Thunderbird into a raven flew into the perfect
blue above the bumper to bumper traffic
one black feather floated down
and landed on my head
I knew then I was forgiven my lack of faith
I knew then that I was blessed
When Patti Sirens is not writing poetry she’s in the ocean or in the garden and sometimes in a lot of mischief. She’s also a d.j., a pet massage therapist, and works for the Santa Cruz Public Library. Being out in nature is what inspires much of her writing, as well as the crows that visit every morning for breakfast.
