Not the way to start a day. Full frontal
male nudity on the screen
last night left her
cold. She would be so lucky to have him
appear in her dreams—
and yet. Just show a little ankle, a bare
forearm, the back
of his thigh. No more holding it in—time
to wash her hair.
Vital signs appear in all directions—here
the universal symbol
for no longer choking. The color blue
has turned green
as mature redwood leaves
modest in their fog shroud.
She remembers how
to read them only when she steals
a moment from leaf litter beds
to refocus her mind
on what her eyes have been fixing
all along—this figure eight.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 