Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Day 953: leap year. musings. williams.

the only thing i can remember about this day
is a black man
with soft hands
the way he told us
he had lived 4 times as many years than his age
told us his body was made in the shape of pages
and that if only
he could be read
into dusk
would he know happiness

he told me a story about a midnight train
about a girl named saturn
his daughter
with eyes shaped like a ball of gas
fire spitting from the edges of her lips

he told me
his first fit of courage came in the aftertaste of an affair
and the way the words split out of his mouth to her
how strong he had felt in honesty
in an unsettling situation

the only thing i remember of this day
is a thanksgiving email he sent
how it spoke like a poem
how we all wanted to speak like his poems
or like his hands
or like his touch
or like his voice
how we needed his approval
because he had touched the stars
and named one after his daughter
how he had taken the midnight train
and named it after us

we wanted that kind of magic
so when we were in his presence
we'd open up our journals
and write the little words
all the small thing he whispered
tried not to cry
while trying to be honest

the only thing i remember about this day
is the smile on sauls face
when we entered the main stage
how the president was sitting in the back corner
and i could here sauls voice over the whisper
how he told another poet
that he was my teacher
and that i had taught him something

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