Tuesday, October 17, 2006

What my K stands for

Knowing
You don't have to knock,
you already keep
the keys
to me.

You can come and go
freely,
but really, i like it
better
when you stay,

Some carefully crafted
combination of need and want,

Sure,
I could make it through days
without you,

but why the hell would I want to do that?

What good are kitchens
I don't get to dance in with you,
Cars without your puns
careening through
like dirtroad pebbles,

what's the point of singing
without your harmony,
or davenning
without your Kavannah
beside me?

what's a better world
without your embrace?

what good are notebook pages
without your inspiration?

what can I do
with the knowledge I've picked up
but share it with you?

who needs a mitt without
you throwing a softball?

What purpose do my lips serve
if not to laugh at your jokes,
taste our cooking,
whisper in your ear,
or kiss you?

Who needs a sleep bereft of
snuggling up to you?

Your kindness massages
my aching tendons
Your wisdom bends me
back into shape

and to you chuckle
is to remember
why G-d invented laughing.

You push me to continue
long past points I'd never reach

You keep me grounded
with my head above the clouds,

grinning so loudly
they want to arrest me
for decibles 5 times the legal limit
and broadcasting without a license.

You've got the keys,
so I know
you can come and go
as you please,
but please, stay awhile

i promise I'll make it worth your while.

My fingers will traverse
every cell of the bottom of your feet
like Magellan was immortal and had a motor

i will continue to cobble
syllables to you
till you blush anytime you reach
for a book.

my lips will kiss you
good night, good morning, good day
good afternoon, good evening, good elevensies
good midnight, good tuesday, and

good 2:37pm.

My eardrums stand ready
to lay down the cadence
you ask of the rest of me,

to love you like
no one ever has,
or ever will, and my body
eager to deliver that promise.

You already have the keys to me.

But I want you to stay.

That way,
the next time someone asks me
what the K stands for,

I can smile and tell them

K stands for

keeping your head on a swivel, for
knowing someone's got your back
front, and sides, for

kicking everything from
niggunim to KRS ONE in the car, for

getting me back on
kilter, for
kindness without bounds,

for

killer insight and
killer smiles, for the
kavannah and
kodesh you bring to my life,

for helping practice

kiddush and bentching outloud, for your
kisses that fit all occasions, that always succeed in
kindling my insides,

for (name redacted),
for (name redacted),

but the next time someone says
Mr. K,

I want the K to be short
for

Knucklehead.

5 Comments:

Anonymous feygele said...

My smile spread wider and bigger as I read that, Ruby.

Much, much happiness to you and Knucklehead!

6:45 PM  
Blogger EAR said...

Awwwwwwwwwwwww...
the sweetest poem ever!

9:34 PM  
Anonymous Knucklehead said...

I love you!!!!!

10:32 PM  
Blogger ahavatcafe said...

You are an amazing poet, and I'm honored to be sharing in your simcha!

1:16 PM  
Blogger Smeliana said...

Okay, I'm going to cry right here in my cubicle.

What a lucky lady.

3:35 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home