Isn’t it amusing that they think
we’re too old for…and don’t see
when our passion stirs?
They don’t notice your hand
reaching over to arrange my letters
in the middle of the game.
Do you know I love those hands
most tenderly when they’re making
tea? And then, again, in the middle
of the night when you touch my arm
and, wordless, ask me to begin a ballet.
You know, I think making love to you
starts in the music of steps in snow
or your look into your purse for a lozenge
when my mouth is dry. Yes, that’s the flag,
that’s the pointing daystar.-Charles Bane Jr.

Charles Bane Jr., 2009, copyright by the artist

em>Charles Bane Jr. is a full time poet. His work has been published WPB/NYC and Anything Else on wordpress. com, and in print, in ” I Was Indian: An Anthology of Native Literature, Vol.1″ . He is the only non-Native American to be included in the volume.

He is preparing his first chapbook for publication.