father-watching
faraway
triggered sweet by
memory plucked
from twinge of
heart at
husband whiskers
sprinkled in
the sink

​
father
slow transforming
out of sight
whisker white
a-creep through
long-time
beard of boyish
blondish-brown
​

sprouting
scraggled out from
ear and nose
and knuckle
round
​

eyes a-cave
and sunken deep
in shaded-over
cavities
​

for inward looking
more than
out


with no more
footballs
flung
about
​

and no more
children yanking
on the waking hours'
daggy trousers


for weeping
over old-time
music secret
in the dark


up with the
birds
down with
the sun


midlife
rush at last
a-hush and
calm in its
surrender
done


bones exposed
of parenthood
held frail a-clung
by gristle grey of
simple habits


coffee thick
and silky
run with
milk


and crispest
crusty bread
torn up
for dipping into
hearty stock


with olives
cheese and
ham on top


a drop
of something
oaky sipped
and languished


a-crawl with
thoughts of
father own
disintegrating


boyhood memories
coddled close
and satiating


with daughter
unbeknownst
father-watching
faraway


© 2017 Adelaide Heathfield

sometimes
you just need to
run into the
wild and
look at the
starshine and
look at the
moonbeams
​

and forget
who you are
for a while
​

forget where
you came from
and where you're
trying to go


forget who is
waiting for you
and what they said
and what they
might say
​

to melt back
into black
and pulse shiny
and magical
​

to be
simply a
body under
the sky


© 2017 Adelaide Heathfield

blankets laid
like pastry
twirled and
crinkled
made to nestle
precious
heads
in bed of
curled and
covered comfort
buttered

​
wrapped up
little packages
alive and
breathing
​

heaving breaths
of depths
unknown to
waking worlds
through softened
lungs and throats
and mouths
and gooey
molten middles
​

with shield of
fragile sleep
held up
to barricade in
and barricade out
​

as steam floats
gentle warm
and wistful
blissful up
from tender
scalps
​

from dreams
in gold and
chocolate



© 2017 Adelaide Heathfield

let the race
go on and
be won and
be lost
inevitable
fast
without me


I will be
playing
on the side
of the road
with the daisies
and the crickets
and the wild-growing
fennel
​

a fleeting whoosh
to the rushing
passerby
and they a whoosh
to me

​
as clouds
hang humid
and yearn to
speckle their
summer mist
a-top puffs of
breeze and
rosy cheeks
and
saplings

​
I will be
spending my
sunshine day
with face
upturned and
hair a-mess
and
eyes not
looking where
they're going


© 2017 Adelaide Heathfield

we slept all
bundled up in
beds too tiny
meant for
one


limbed and
twiny under
breathy blanket
quilted by
your mom

​
in pokey dorm rooms
loud and
clambersome
​

we slept all
upside down
in princess bed
of brass ornate
and painted
ceramic of
flowers pink
and dainty

​
pulled and
rubbled out
from rummage
sale in
somebody's
front yard

​
enclosed by walls
of wood
a-seep with
rugged deep
grotesque koala
gnarl

​
we slept all
pulled out long
on foamy
futon
​

slats a-stick
in ribs and
jutting out
​

to wailing
whooping
siren sounds
and tv screams
and chopper
chops
and others'
midnight
lovers' fights


a-pound and
hot and grimy


we slept all
lofted up
and alcoved
cozy
high in castle
attic


nunnery
monastic


circled round
by clouds
and crows and
osprey


wings a-soar
wings a-flap
dizzying up our
weathered dreams


with
cat a-curled and
purring at
our tender feet


and farback
memories
swirling sweet


of bygone nights

​
of bygone plights


of sleeps
slept other
places


© 2017 Adelaide Heathfield