Beth Lifson – 2 Poems

Beth Lifson

2 Poems

Babies in Mind

If I sit here long enough the bathwater will get thrown out of the bath and something may occur with babies in mind.  Babies on the brain, on the mind of the baby is something about the bath and the water is too cold to bathe in, the bathtub of sitting water and sitting longer than the bath or the water is the place where I am always lingering, that place is no longer the back of the house, no longer housed in the house, no longer longer than the time spent bathing in the bathtub.  It drowns out the noise of outside, the back of the house, the housed thoughts of one baby and the minds of one on the babies of another. The lingering place, the back of the mind, the baby and bathwater both there and why would someone throw out a baby like bathwater, what kind of slip is that, the tossing out of both baby and water, how would you not notice something like that and toss out thoughts of babies, throw away the back of the house, linger a moment before detailing the getting rid of, the bathwater drained, the baby sent to Nanas, the longer place no longer suitable for lingering and the name drained of its pace.  How one comes to forget both baby and name, both bath and water, both front and back in place of one house, lingering. Pedal Fast in the Race I. The allure of an empty room, hotel, that is to say, I miss you in waves, connect the starch white sky and streets related to each other, here, where bathing an art I can master.  No one says goodbye like they used to, no one is here and all streetlamps bid forever turn daylight the orange spokes of a bicycle.  Pedal fast in the race, dear foreigner.  There are times alone when lunch is lonelier than the skyline from a hotel, sadder than miniature soap and more forgiving than this dimly lit room where I stand away from the mirror, look forward to home. II. It rained in the room, Japan That is to say, hotel & Missed connect of train, umbrella – Streetlamps, orange bicycles, bathing An art I can master here alone Eating lunch, lonely As miniature soap, starch white. Pedal fast in the race Before daylight, forgive This dim room its mirrors Look toward home, I’ll say Goodbye like you’re used to, dear foreigner Relate sheets to the sky III. Race, missed Orange spokes Starched white Miniature skyline Soaped fast.  Look home, umbrellas Japan rained dim Bathed art, lonely lunch Related foreign, master dear streetlamps, dear daylight forgive time

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