NaPoWriMo 13 ~ object piece

One of the prompts at Big Tent Poetry this month asked that we write an ode to an object. I'm not sure that this qualifies as an "ode," but the prompt did inspire the poem. Buddha has been in our lives for seven years. Now seven is a lucky number for some, it seemed fitting to mention it on this unlucky (?)13 of NaPoWriMo. It's interesting the sound thirteen shares with thirty. As my grandmother would say, Oi yoi yoi. Seventeen days remain. I wish I had more time, I wish I had more time, I wish I had more time.... clicking my heels together three times, here's my daily poem.

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breathing for Buddha

At Rockin’ Rudy’s,
right after
Len and I wed,
your hands caught my eye
from the place where
you sat atop a glass
case of flying frog t-shirts
(it’s a Missoula thing)


Meditative mudras
beckoned me close
to the folds of your
brass saffron robes
when an intake of breath
stepped me back rapt


breathe
repeated not thought
breathe


At a rack of hats
I angled in mirrors
and still, the glint
of your deeply rubbed
sheen steeped me in.


Breathing does not stop desire.


The family van
seemed a safe place to be
and wait for Len to find
an Elvis Perkins CD.


He came out of the store
with a gleam in his eyes
and you in his arms.


A gift from the universe
my husband
and you.


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Thank you to Writer's Island for providing a place to post every day this month, and always on Saturdays.