Sometimes at night
you hold my hand
as my thoughts tumble
like tennis shoes in the dryer.
I know too little about you
too much about me,
I dispel the total darkness
by opening my eyes
gaze at familiar curtains and lamp.
Our separate but connected bodies
in the same solar system;
held by threads
as slight and strongas spider spinnings.
East of Modesto
All day long I’ve been connected
to the car
speeding through green orchards
to the piano tinkling on public radio
to the earth.
and soft bright pebbles,
you are out there, I know—
our lips feel the same wind.
It is enough for now,
to hear a dove cooing in the rain,
to play the piano all morning,
to read my history in poems,
to hold in my hand like a soap bubble,the fragile structure of loss and gain.
Remembering, it was your hands,
I loved first and last,
hands true and stronger,
than candlelight, white tablecloths,
than nights on pillows by the fire.
And now it is enough to havewalked by the dark water,
felt your wool coat and the stars,
stood together on the bridge,
seen the pomegranate in the water,
floating toward us, through us, past us,like a bursting red sun.
Bio: Award-winning California author and poet, Barbara Link, has had three stories aired on KVPR, a National Public Radio Affiliate. Her poetry and fiction have appeared in numerous literary magazines and small presses. She also received the Sacramento State University Bazzanella Prize for fiction. Her memoir, Blue Shy was published in 2010 and awarded first prize in the Sacramento Friends of the Library First Chapter contest.
Partial list of publications. American River Review, Poetry Now, Earth’s Daughters, Mindprint Review, Anima, Whitefish Review, Missouri Review, Women’s Compendium, Hardpan, Dead Snakes.