An Amsterdam Clairvoyant

Extend the arms outward palms up,
relax the wrists—yes—
No, this is no longer what you thought here

Your worry’s dust mutes the light,
now give me that sight:
those women,

thin robes & deep gazes,
who put fire in the eyes
from Dutch windows,

aged blue-grey, staring
at the only canal still
flowing past Den Haag—

[inspiration]

yes—there—
on that street is a restaurant
whose sign reads in neon mandarin

below that, a glass dragon,
but behind it, in the back,
the young man bussing tables,

he is the one red,
red face you want,

[expiration]

His eyes are his mother’s
but he is yours, I am sure of it,
if you too could see his birthmark:

He shares your forward thinking
and indelible love for women, wine
& the word.

April in Paris, chestnuts in blossom

MUSIC BOX

It was Paris
when I loved you
& children

ran the streets,
we’d unlock hands
to shirk them,

then over dinner,
under ripe
chestnut flowers,

talking future-talk,
we promised aloud
never to have them.

Our vows
would choke us
by December

and since then
it’s never been
as it was in April—

I never met it face-to-face,
never a warm embrace
‘til April in Paris.  

Oh—what have I done?