Today Is Not the Day

I can't just sit here 
staring death in her face
blinking and asking for a new name 
by which to greet her

I am not afraid to say 
unembellished
I am dying
but I do not want to do it
looking the other way.

Today is not the day. 
It could be
but it is not. 
Today is today
in the early moving morning 
sun shining down upon 
the farmhouse in my belly 
lighting the wellswept alleys 
of the town growing in my liver 
intricate vessels swelling with the gift 
of Mother Mawu
or her mischievous daughter 
Afrekete Afrekete  my beloved
feel the sun of my days surround you 
binding our pathways
we have water to carry 
honey to harvest
bright seed to plant for the next fair 
we will linger
exchanging sweet oil
along each other's ashy legs 
the evening light
a crest on your cheekbones.

By this rising
some piece of our labor
is already half-done 
the taste of loving 
doing a bit of work 
having some fun
riding my wheels so close to the line
my eyelashes blaze.

Beth dangles her stethoscope over the rearview mirror 
Jonathan fine-tunes his fix on Orion
working through another equation 
youth taut as an arrow 
stretched to their borders 
the barb sinking in so far 
it vanishes from the surface. 
I dare not tremble for them
only pray laughter comes often enough 
to soften the edge.

And Gloria  Gloria
whose difference I learn
with the love of a sister  you  you 
in my eyes bright appetite  light 
playing along your muscle
as you swing.

This could be the day. 
I could slip anchor and wander 
to the end of the jetty 
uncoil into the waters
a vessel of light  moonglade
ride the freshets to sundown
and when I am gone 
another stranger will find you 
coiled on the warm sand
beached treasure  and love you
for the different stories 
your seas tell
and half-finished blossoms
growing out of my season 
trail behind
with a comforting hum.

But today 
is not the day.
Today.