bliss station ~ poetry

whatever holds

I hold in my hand whatever holds,
I spend half the night with sharon olds.
I hold in my hand, whatever holds -

A kindle, a book, my mobile phone,
a tingle, a look, your fertile moan -
of a touch, nothing much, sterile tone -

now that is a sound I like to hold.
to keep & then seek, as I grow old.
but I'm young, 18, these fields of gold-

a jingle, a brook, dreams of daughter.
but why, befuddled, I lose my rhyme,
gathering, I turn, in my own time.

the sky is so kind to scatter gold -
this field, when healed, will yield to my hold.
we spend half the night - dreaming, i'm told,
I hold in my mind the things that hold.

~Ajay
8/1/2020