first one of the year

We wake up at the crack of noon

and have the first sex of the new year

you slept in your makeup

and I have a bar bracelet on my wrist.

We are spent firecrackers,

empty cardboard cylinders

with breath like gunpowder,

we fizzle but it's enough.

I make a six-egg omlete for the two of us

and we have coffee, the good moroccan

we have been saving for a morning like this.

We sit and sip, you braless and barefoot

in one of my old shirts.  The kitchen smells

like burnt toast and when you smile

I think I havent cracked an egg for anyone

more beautiful in my life.

It is grey but not snowing so we walk,

up the hill above town all the way

to the radio tower where we stand

leaning into the wind,

from here we can see the river

the school our apartment

the train yard the wood smoke

hanging like pillow stuffing

strewn over a patchwork quilt.

Neither of us have been all the way up here before

and now we don't want to go back down,

we hold hands, we linger.

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[MissWordSmith]

you are so talented. I hardly ever add pieces to my reading lists or library but this is the second piece of YOURS that I am going to add. wow...this poem. I don't know how you do it. Its honest, full of life, full of new feelings, emotion, and also an air of happy-go-lucky lovers. but there also is something more serious to it.

This line was great...

"I think I havent cracked an egg for anyone

more beautiful in my life."

[Ms. Gruye]

what I like about this piece is the way you've captured the enjoyable hopelessness of New Years. I didn't quite pick up on a sensuality of this piece, as your describe the toast to the same degree as the sex. I thoroughly appreciated the banality of it all.

viva la

[Alicante lullaby]

it was dream like,sensual and yet you very well used the imagery,,,''hanging like a ....''[specially lovely],,,,a very heartfelt write,,,

[Emily B]

I've always been convinced that going up the hill is important on a real regular basis. Driving back down my hill, I sometimes think it's the next best thing to flying. Or at least the next best thing to sleeping til noon and the first sex of the new year.

Definitely the good stuff.

[W.k.kortas]

The carnal and the ethereal, soggy B- sex and the odd re-visited, almost reborn, view of one's everday world from the hilltop, all framed wonderfully. This is the good stuff.

[DavidRyan]

Beautifully written. Capturing a morning most would say is the true definition of love and youth. Well done.