USA

lmoss@mcn.org

Out Of Time

For a moment out of time
I was there with you
In that cave
Burying myself in that darkness

The smell of the sea
Sand on my back, in my hair
Burrowed into your dark depths
Wild as the sea sound
The tide coming in.

I remembered to breathe (you taught me well)
My Kansas Farm Friend

I heard Vienese waltzes
Fire and water and the seas sizzling
and spent.

It is quiet now
The cold water laps at my flames
The fire all but out

Still - the sizzle remains and
The smell of the sea on your warm limbs and
fierce kisses.
The sand still sticks to my back.

Haunted

Here, where there are no lilacs
I smell them in the Spring
My childhood filled with
Bouquets in purple, pink and white
Such delight
Until my scent dulled to the smell.

I could see them everywhere
On a table below the stair
Over the water closet
On the piano
At the kitchen table
A plethora of lilacs
And we didn't have a garden.

They make me dream in scents
In dreams I am young and alone
In a vacant lot with crisscrossing paths
And lilacs growing everywhere

I brush my face up to the blooms
My nostrils widen and
No one knows my madness
It is the East coast I ride to on scents of 
lilacs
Never returning until the blooms are gone
And then await the Spring's return
To purple, pink and white

© All Copyright, Laurel Moss, 2000.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.