WHAT IS DECENT
The woman in the white
pours herself a cup of jasmine tea, tries
to cut a slice of bread. Outside, night sky
a blue neon star newly placed traps her
into thinking about birth warm water
that reeks of paralysis and a revised
tale of past history. Locked on either side
of the high-rise star mount, red light markers
keep planes from crashing into Bethlehem.
Shes in love with a man who loves a man
who told him good-bye. She holds her hand
flat to sea wind, rubs thumbs along the rim
of her tea cup translucent bone china
cracked by the last earthquake inside her.
If you've any comments on
this poem, Tia Ballantine would be pleased to hear from you.