After

1954 –

We came to the island. We stayed in the house.
Rain and sun. Bougainvillea. Pink cedar.
How many shadows slipped along walls
or whetted the leaves of century plants?

We saw clouds from the windows. Far boats.
You left the bed and came back shaking.
Your mother, her white hair, or something
whose shape would never, at last, find you.

Night palms clattering like hungry bowls.
Crazy whistling of the island peepers.
We walked to the water. Walked back.
We walked to the water . . . walked back.

Gravel

Weed-wrack and wild grape
hanging from the dusty trees
that touch above the narrow road.
I’m driving my way back

David Baker

2019

Air Of

—then lightly rubs the
inside of her wrist

to wrist the flower
fullness the furrows

like heirloom roses
or attar crushed from

weapons thrown aside
the century gone

as though bound now in
not shame not shyness

David Baker

2019

Storm Psalm

Dear darkness. Dear where we bow our heads in disbelief.
     Dear disbelief, hardly bow our heads and
hardly speak, so we sing, such words as darkness
     shows us how on days on end. So I sing it is
not hopeless. Hurry hurry. Nor faithless—to stand
     without faith, keeping open—. Now another
so they say, thus the trees utterly are still, and the wind is,
     and what wings there are utterly still in limbs
darkened above the barn. Bow down, for this darkness
     now above cedars. Smell of mint and tincture of

David Baker

2018

Poems

After

More by this poet

Gravel

Air Of

Storm Psalm

Poems

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After

More by this poet

Gravel

Air Of

Storm Psalm

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