The Morning After
Nokyoung Xayasane
The light holds here
through the silken drapes
hanging on your walls
that separate
our murmured voices
from the outside world
I hold this memory
like a grain of sand
encapsulated in time
on the brink of
falling
through the overturned hourglass
The white sheets
still hold the brilliance
of the night
Our laughter
effortlessly weaving
a pattern on the ceiling
an open window
letting in the evening air
Your books on the mantel
ease me into
the hollow
of your neck
the curve of my spine
the small
of your back
Scattered on the floor
my blouse
your jacket
Coming together
in the hours before
filtered light enters
through curtained glass
that expands and is everywhere
the warmth of the sun
on silken drapes.
(September 2010)
When I Heard at the Close of Day, Walt Whitman
When I heard at the close of the day how my name had been
receiv'd with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy
night for me that follow'd,
And else, when I carous'd, or when my plans were accomplish'd,
still I was not happy,
But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health,
refresh'd, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn,
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in
the morning light,
When I wander'd alone over the beach, and undressing bathed,
laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise,
And when I thought my dear friend my lover was on his way
coming. O then I was happy,
O then each breath tasted sweeter, and all that day my food
nourish'd me more, and the beautiful day pass'd well,
And the next came with equal joy, and with the next at evening
came my friend,
And that night while all was still I heard the waters roll slowly
continually up the shores,
I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands as directed to me
whispering to congratulate me,
For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in
the cool night,
In stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was inclined
toward me,
And his arm lay lightly around my breast—and that night I was
happy
Good Poems, Selected and Introduced by Garrison Keillor (2002)
Bird of Passage 