bare feet slap worn wood

Bare feet slap worn wood.
Breath comes fast and deep.
A turn, a step, and then again
we kick and slide and leap.

Each a mirror
to the others,
same as siblings
sister, brothers.

This violent dance with blood unspilled
we perform as with one mind,
for even though I cannot see,
I feel you both in front, behind.

Whirling white, we're belted black.
Punches, kicks hit only air.
Sleeves and pants must flash and crack
as we imagine what is there.

We finish loud with strength and shout,
the Hwa-Rang hyung now done,
but though the sharing fades with time,
we three remain as one.

asleep on the sofa

Asleep on the sofa,
your hair fans out
in one arrested moment
like the apex of a jump.

Your feet bare,
legs crossed at the ankles,
I have leisure to study you,
just to stare.

Your second toe is longer than the others,
and there's a callous torn off
the ball of your right foot.
But the skin underneath
is pink and strong.

You sleep. I dream.

spontaneous birthday thoughts

my daughter turns 18 today
so this morning I'll sit
and steep in those memories
of what I was doing exactly 18 years ago today
everything is different now
except the continuity
holding hands across time