I Plan to Grow Old at the St. George Hotel
for Gray Chang
In skin as heavy as silk I’ll lie
(love long dead, the window my eye)
along the sill a story above the street.
A player carries his keyboard under one arm
in search of a band. The bubble man
sets up tub, readies sticks with their loop of string.
A siren calls like a long-dead friend, a thief
sips his sweet take from a fragrant cup.
A magician brings a dead dove back to life
while the harper tunes beneath the hummed surprise.
A unicyclist sings the newest song, lamps come on,
lovers stroll whispering, skin against skin
through the spangled night. Bubbles rise
and glow like paned spheres against the light.
The magician strokes the feathers of the dove,
love flies arrow-straight from the harper’s strings.
My skin settles into dust above.
Debra Spencer is a learning disabilities specialist at Cabrillo College and the author of Pomegranate, published by Hummingbird Press.
