O! If you sit and wait, your limbs weigh heavy, pulled down, the skin flakes base your coffee mug. I noticed this this morning. My left arm shook dark, hot mess on my robe. I will not choose ice water. Skull flakes round my cup, where on that dark table lives a circle, my blessed o! Newbie Spring Roof held by sagging vital breezes and clothespins, backyard shed of forgetful rituals, flowering baby-food lids cupping hands, held tight since last season. Wander down suckling path toward lake that diapers ice cut thin by warm blankets. I stand and wait to hear dashing burbles of laughing gas let loose under icy bundles. Listen for small fry who hiccups new life to spring.
Harbor Mind I’ve trained myself to wait on whispers, but the dishwasher drums daytime heartthrobs. Heating elements tick diablo rhythm and castanets, cracking ceramic ridges behind my eyes. Walking by, my outside mind gains harbor calm and floating pen. I place myself near pliable skiffs waddling geese wheels; names so familiar to me that I can spell them: Mermaid with her tail resting on sawed wood dock, and Thundermug for music strained through Guatemalan brew. Water always gets me, its rabbi balancing on board, pushing her out from shore, and raising love coos Author Bio Jan Wiezorek has taught writing at St. Augustine College, Chicago, and his poetry has appeared or is forthcoming at <i>The London Magazine</i>, <i>Panoplyzine</i>, <i>Better Than Starbucks</i>, and <i>Schuylkill Valley Journal</i> online. He is author of <i>Awesome Art Projects That Spark Super Writing </i>(Scholastic, 2011) and holds a master's degree in English Composition/Writing from Northeastern Illinois University.