two poems

***
today I brought in the slow-dried laundry
its windswept body trustingly under my fingers
in this cold, when it dries it dries for sure
the hard way, on the longest branches of magnolia trees
forgotten for the night, fighting away the spirits
in this cold, the slow and hard way



***

In front of me and you there lies a sleeping aye-aye
its back is vast and it's an invitation
we take our buckle shoes off respectfully and walk
across it's breathing fur
in my walking I walk lightly as if we were walking nowhere
in yours, with every step you are returning
the wind that is plucking cinnamon trees
makes us hold our hats and close our eyes
as closed are the dogs' eyes that have fallen asleep on their way
across this day
and are sleeping like there is no crossing and no returning