Sinking into the Depths of Noon
Some days, in late May, in the first true heat of Spring, you
can gaze upon the orchard full of blossoms and think of
someone you haven’t thought of in years, and see that face
as you once memorized it with the tip of your finger, tracing
its light and shade— lips parted in slow, steady breath— full
of pollen, full of bees humming— that song that would eat
itself inside out. You can recall wanting nothing more than
what you cherished briefly, and that face will disappear in the
confidence of your daydream, knowing what no one else knows.
*
M.J. Iuppa’s fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017). For the past 33 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.
Oh dang, how I love this poem, sensual and charged with life, with memory. As Naomi Shihab Nye says in her poem “Hidden,” “No one sees the fuel that feeds you.” Memories such as the one in this poem are such potent invisible fuel. And so beautifully written with those long lines–this is a poem i treasure already.
Thank you, Rosemerry