-First light-

Pulling the chain opened the floodgates

Inhaling wastewater from the bowl.

Then the evening incandescence
Was orange-tinctured as the skin
Of the white girls

At Horseneck Beach in early August.

This was the place

Where the 78s turned 33,
Turned 45 and the doors blew open.

In this house the sweet
Scent of leaded

Gasoline from the ESSO station

Folded layer on layer into the simmering
Pot on the gas-stove burner
Attended to like an infant.

In the dark early morning

Under deep snow-cover

We wake-up to the news of the school
Cancellations.

It's a different kind of dark
Than the darkness of night;
The window's blue at the bed's wrinkled foot

And the light of the lamps is filtering through.

Now the early morning rooms glow orange-
Tinctured from the incandescent lamps;
Different than nightlight;— opening not closing

And I hear the cornerstones of family speaking
Softy in the kitchen.

                                        Quequechan