Screen Saver

Heather installed a forest on my hard drive.
Seasons of maples and flame-shaped poplars
roll by after I stop typing. Soft green
or black against snow, trees keep me company,
come when nothing else will.

Hours spent in my workroom thinking
about the body. Twice mine was opened
from inside and I held a daughter, the milky night
wrapping us skin to skin. Now those two want
to mother me, bring software and home-baked bread.

Hours with the puzzle of desire, its fierce teeth
in deep as ever and I the same girl. Hard work,
thinking about that point where world
and body intersect. Such dissonance. It's autumn
winding down for me, seen from out there.

Great wings of rain along the coast tonight.
Our eucalyptus and blue oaks shake,
let go leaves that slap against the roof.
On my monitor, new growth, geese flying north.
How far away we go to get home.


Poems by Sharon Fain:

Snowy Owl
Getting It Right
A Birth
Waiting for the Bear
Screen Saver
Losing the Drought
Isla Mujeres: Weeks Before the Breakdown
On Hearing Jack Gilbert Talk About Death
One Month at Casa Sotovento
Out on the Deck at Sirens
Waiting to Hear About the Biopsy
Elvis at Chiang Mai
High Desert
Letters From Sarajevo
On Seeing the Place Where I First Made Love

TIMES TEN: An Anthology of Northern California Poets