Two Meditations   Leave a comment


like catching oneself in a mirror
without judgement
without haste

I don’t think of what his back
has lifted or how many times
the sun burned the skin
I just wash his long back
watch my hand shape a rhythm
of pattern and motion
soap suds circle on shoulders
back of arms     butt
thin legs   rough feet
then the front of him
my hand cleans   dries

next the warm covers
of underwear, sweat pants
old velour shirt soft as skin

we share a pomegranate
each with half a world in our hands
leaning over  not tipping its juices
putting pearl and ruby bits in our mouths
swallowing

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Posted November 6, 2011 by strongjacksonpoet54 in Uncategorized

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