July 5: Back to the Grind, Another Reading, New Poem

Home town's fireworks

It rained last night at the fireworks.  For the first five or seven minutes of the show, everyone was huddled under blankets, watching the rockets go off.  After the rain stopped, the wind picked up, and then we spent the rest of the time dodging cinders falling from the sky.  I kid you not.  After it was over and we were back in the car, my daughter said it was the most exciting fireworks she's ever been at.

Today, I'm back to the grind after the three-day holiday.  It was a little rough getting back in the saddle, but I managed (with the help of a Diet Coke and a Diet Mountain Dew).  Mid-way through the day, I find myself thinking about tonight's poetry reading/panel discussion at the Peter White Library in Marquette.  I'm planning on picking out a few poems that I'm definitely going to share, but, aside from that, I have no idea how things are going to go.  That's kind of exciting, but also a little nerve-wracking.

I may have used this before, but it's still funny.

I was able to get a new poem written this morning.  It's inspired by my attendance of the fireworks last night.  I wasn't quite sure where I was headed with it when I wrote the first few lines.  Very quickly, however, it became obvious to me that I was writing a love poem.  It's a poem about the ability to sustain love and passion over the years.

After all of the struggles my wife and I have been through, many people don't understand our relationship--how we've survived the bouts of mental illness and various addictions.  I think, in a strange way, our relationship is stronger now than it has ever been, because it's based on honesty.  I don't hide my feelings over anything with my wife.  My wife, in struggling with her sexual addiction, has learned the necessity of complete honesty, as well, with me and with herself.  At this point in our marriage, we aren't blinded by fantasies of romance.  The romance comes from knowing each other deeply.

That's what today's poem is about.

Saint Marty hopes to see you at the reading tonight.

After the Fireworks

We walk to our car in the dark,

Blankets cradled in our arms,

Stars as distant as the morning

We first met, marriage and kids

Not even ingredients in the roux

Of our thoughts, just longing for

When we could come together

On a beach, wade into lake

Water, hands and lips weightless

As jellyfish on our bodies,

Stinging, pulling back, gliding

Over and in and around, skin,

A night sky on July fourth,

Full of comet, spark, tail, waterfall.

Peony.  Chrysanthemum.  Diadem.

Crossette.  Kamuro.  Bengal fire.

Afterward, as we dressed, we

Still smelled our combustion,

Tasted potassium, nitrogen, copper

On our tongues for hours.

Tonight, we load belongings

Into our Ford.  Books, sparklers,

Half-eaten bag of cotton candy,

Our daughter, still dazzled

By Summer Storm and Pyro Glyphics.

We drive home in silence

After the fireworks, think of how

We, on this Independence Day,

Depend on each other, how we

Still climb into bed each night,

Hungry to be blinded again.