all poems and photographs
© by Maya Stein

all poems and photographs
© by Maya Stein
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Friday, June 12, 2009

managing the return

Of course, everything has become a little less lovely, the bananas
ripening too quickly on the kitchen counter,
the pile of mail precipitous and wasteful,
the deck paint cracked and peeling.

Climbing the stairs, it is evident
a molting has taken place here, too, but it isn’t the same
at all. Instead, a fault line, a recession, the body of the house
gone soft. The air needing windows and more light.

The first morning is a rude awakening, an insult
of disproportion. Someone is demanding a refund,
upset with their breakfast order, screaming
from their car.

It continues. Urine trickling from planters,
Trashcans pregnant but neglected. An arrogant blaze of neon.
The city is graceless, unforgiving, full of ways
to go completely wrong and pay for it.

Love, too, has headed a little south,
kindness, forgiveness, awareness, thanks –
it turns out these were rafts to hold onto in the flood,
but here the dirt is parched and wanting.

So here’s what’s left: the moon,
her bittersweet face gazing from above,
something in her eyes saying,
Yes, I know.

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

Gorgeous. You speak to my heart. Blessings upon you!

Dale said...

en la luna hay algo que sufre,
y que seca, llorando, las lagrimas...


...or something like that. This reminded me of Jimenez. "there is something in the moon that suffers, and -- weeping -- dries our tears."

Oh, cities are hard, these days.

Val said...

I am touched.

GailNHB said...

Nothing settles my soul like a glance, a gaze, a gasping at the glorious moon. Watching. Weeping with me. Rescuing me. Smiling at me - even when the fault lines seem to fall someplace between my soul from my spirit. Between everything that matters to me from everything else.

Beautiful. Indeed. Again.

Bonnie MacEwan-Zieman said...

Your words are haunting and speak to what I know to be true for me. Thank you.

Kelly (conversemomma) said...

And, she does know because she waxes and wanes and watches over us. It is all so cyclic. I hold on to the belief that we will once again flood, and we will all drink to full.

slouchy said...

maya: your talent takes my breath away.

Two Hands Full said...

Dale, I thought something similar. I was thinking of Neruda, though. Something about those ripening bananas made me soften and wait for flavored words.

I loved this. And to be frank, I hate poetry most of the time.

maggie, dammit said...

oh, honey.

Sherry Belul said...

absolutely gorgeous,

Rae said...

Just reading this now, Maya. Oh. my. God. So beautiful it hurts.