red booth
review

Here, too, you will find the breaking
of shadows, unearthing of earth at start
of the day. 

One bird will call to another, and
this hearth will blossom, slow
and languid. 

Here, too, morning smells fresh,
bright minted coins in memory’s cup.
Things will pass here as elsewhere they pass: 

a day clears its throat, the yellow-light yawn-
an uncupping of leaves
after rain.

Watching Her Dress/Vernal Equinox 

She rises from bed, a pale-kneed woman
with capable thighs, and walks barefoot
into sunlight. 

She bends like a willow over clothes:
layered pants and sweaters,
gloves and galoshes. 

She’s looking for her things-
small garments to relieve buds,
smooth apparel to veil the soft spots. 

Male voyeur, I linger in bed,
a thick comforter heavy with sun
on my chest. 

I call to her, 
but already she’s dressed and standing,
a season in short sleeves, 

amazed at what seems to be
her first sunrise.

- Michael Palmer