Wake

[anastasiav]

Wake

after my head touched my pillow
John Spencer sat down at my kitchen table
we drank coffee with honey and lemon
he laughed aloud while explaining
how martin sheen was a communist

he gestured towards the playbill magazine
lying cockyeyed on the kitchen table
my obituary, he said,
was short and incorrect
and quite flattering

he wore a shirt
like my father wears
in his cold war passport photo
short sleeved and madras
beige with a button down collar

he whispered a secret to me
(John Spencer, not my father)
I could see his mouth move
but the meaning was lost
behind the noise of the dishwasher

How still the air is
when you open your eyes unexpectedly
wondering why it is not yet dawn

Comments

[rising-moon.livejournal.com]

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