Mass Ave Spine

 

The 83 bus runs

From Central Square on my left palm

Up the Prospect Street tendons of my arm

To the soft pit of Porter Square in my elbow.

 

It runs

Over Rindge Ave

To North Cambridge in my breast

Where the geese tread on Jerry’s Pond

somewhere in my liver

And the Red Line brakes at Alewife

in time with my breath.

 

 

*

 

call for rest

 

a perfect square of sunlight

spread golden over toast

salted with dust motes

seven-thirty AM

 

the dogwood blooming into clouds

beyond the cracked window

swaying for the wood-wet

May

trees hazy yellow-green

 

the kettle whistles.

my mother prefers thick porcelain,

milk in her tea

and sitting on the hardwood

 

there’s no need to put on shoes today.