Diaspora Sonnet 11
In absence of blackbirds I give you
a diamond-studded sky.
In absence of heat, let there be
a window. Let it be lacquered
with the slow dust of our bodies
settling the sill. In absence of
our bodies, let there be a skein
of geese arrowing past. I give
you the veins of dead vines
festooning the frame. I give
placidity in certain places,
holy with our breath. Let me
smell the once clover-rich field
where we once dwelt, sugared and thick.
Diaspora Sonnet 13
I persist in a moment like a solarium.
Window, window, window – sunlit
and slow. A hum of memory. Bee-buzz
rattle of glass against pane as planes
write their misunderstandings above.
I am held by the abandoned lattice
where the wisteria bones form beautiful
cages in their reckless climb up the trellis.
Dear nowhere, I was a girl a minute ago.
I was asleep in the clear chambers of a heart.
I was a secret note in the back of a drawer
sliding forward as you pull the pulls.
I cannot be apart from you, having adored
all these durable moments from which you flee.