someday

someday i will paint this. or write it or something. i mean, re-write it. because i didn't but wish that i could have. for the second day in a row.

When we are old one night
and the moon arcs over the house
like an antique china saucer
and the teacup sun follows
somewhere far behind

I hope the stars deepen to a shine
so bright you could read by it

if you liked

and the sadnesses we will have known
go away for awhile
-- in this hour or two before sleep--
and that we kiss standing in the kitchen

not fighting gravity so much
as embodying its sweet force,
and I hope we kiss like we do today
knowing so much good is said in this primitive tonguef

rom the wild first surprising ones
to the lower dizzy ten thousand infinitely slower ones --
and I hope while we stand there in the kitchen
making tea and kissing,
the whistleof the teapot wakes the neighbors.

Prayer for a Marriage
Steve Scafidi