All poems
VALENTINE’S DAY
She buys herself carnations in the market,
Pretending they were sent to her by someone
Whose fingers read her body in the dark.
For she who has no lover must invent one.
Flowers have a brief and poignant time
To lure the hummingbird or honeybee
Or luna moth before they wilt on the vine,
Sterile, unfulfilled and incomplete.
THE CURRENT
The third week of September the beach
Is almost empty, but the tepid
Water foams around her ankles
Soothing as a jacuzzi. Sand
Rushes down between her toes.
Wading out, she lifts one knee
And then the other over the boiling
Suds that try to push her back
To shore until the viscous sea
Transports her on undulating wings.
She strokes out, watching the summer
Scene reel past like the window view
When the airplane taxis down the runway,
Until she discovers she is a passenger
Much too late to cancel her ticket.
OCTOBERFEST
The maples are jars of cherry-orange
Marmalade. I eat them with my eyes
And then the peach and crimson dahlias
Flaring between cranberry candles
In my sunlighted kitchen pass-through..
The month of great expectations is not
June or January but October, the season
When all things still are possible in the school year
For teachers and for students. That
Was the month I wanted for my wedding.
The torches of trees set my spirits on fire,
Reflected in our pond or spread across
The Appalachians like Indian beadwork
Shadowed by southbound Canada geese.
Someday I’ll make a fall journey to Japan.
Sitting in stillness at the sea of sand
And stone I’ll empty my inward space
And take into myself the plum red
Gold embroidered hills of Kyoto.
A THANK YOU NOTE FOR THE CAST OF “THE RINK”
Still high, stoned on nostalgia,
I go into the parking lot
Humming the theme song of the play.
Like stage scenery, the sky
Shimmers with crystal. The moon
Is a glitterball on a chain
Where any father can pull it down
For his daughter. Look at Arcturus,
A Hope diamond on black velvet:
Follow the arc of the dipper
And you can put your finger on it.
Music and colored lights:
Ghetto kids have overdosed on them
Spacing on strobe beams and
Hard rock nuclear blasts.
Ma and Pa have split,
Riding roller coaster rainbows.
They have outgrown magicians,
Circuses, carnivals and state fairs.
They’re outward bound for Xanadu.
Tickets are only a dollar a minute.
I can remember circling
In the warm New Hampshire honey-
Suckle -scented night,
Skate wheels clicking like a locomotive
On the tracks to Monterey,
Round and round the roller rink,
Silky in my rayon dress,
Hoping a boy would smile at me,
Proud of my lace collar.
The jukebox played the Beer Barrel
Polka round and round
Until the lights dimmed for “Couples Only”
And I rejoined my parents.
DISCARDS
Exquisite crystal starts as potash,
Lead, the whitest sand, and cullet:
(Broken glass from previous batches
That helps the raw ingredients blend.)
Ballooning slantwise on the iron,
Molded with a crooked handle,
Flocked with air bubbles, the glass
Without regret will be pulverized.
Engravers paint with unforgiving
Wheels, smooth and refine designs,
Their hands remembering all the angles.
One slip and the bowl is back in the cullet.
I like to look up at the chandelier
That glorifies the dome of the mall
And think of the hands that did not slip
And the fragments resurrected there.
NUCLEAR THREAT
This solitary passion cuts the core
Out of my apple.
Bloodless lasar surgery burns
A frozen section
Out of my heart. I stare at the eclipse
Of the sun and go blind.
My tongue is welded to the icy iron
Knocker on your door.
A falling meteor consumes itself
Inside my womb.
My radiation count is high.
Beware of me.
I could be tranquil as the summer seas
If you were here.
Your kiss would turn the strychnine I have drunk
To sparkling burgundy.
BACKYARD EROTICA
Rain sated, the lily quivers:
Magenta, deep-throated
Open since daybreak, leaning
Into the shimmering
Gauze curtain of water.
An interlude of silence:
We hear the final
Chime on the patio stones.
Stroked by sunlight,
The lily arches, uplifted
For the hummingbird’s thrust.
RUG HOOKING
Three women, warmed by a wood stove
And cactus blooming in springtime, handle
Soft wool. One thumb and finger, unseen
Beneath the burlap, locate the next connection.
A dowser’s stick or well bucket, the hook
Goes down and brings up particles of water,
Petals, greenery, clouds or sky. A starling
Flaps at the window, puzzled by plants in pots.
She streaks the race and toss and curl of wave
In wind, the sail tilting, seagulls diving.
Medieval women weaving tapestries,
Nuns embroidering altar cloths, or frontier
Wives quilting Texas stars, they talk
Of coming wars, sickness, healing herbs,
Babies, retirement plans and children’s destinies.
The pup, a fluffy mushroom, sniffs and sneezes.
EGYPTIAN STATUETTE
(for Jennifer)
The swimming child is as slim
As the stem of a daisy.
Who carved her eased the knife
In a sharp caress
That shaped her slender thighs
And outstretched arms,
Prenubile breasts and tiny
Waist. Her hair
Is gathered at the side –
A young girl’s style.
Her toes are dancer’s points.
She may have held
A fish between her hands.
The golden foil
Of bracelets and broad collar
Have left their marks.
She was not a commoner.
I want to buy
Her replica and give her
To my granddaughter,
Who only last week swam
To me as straight,
As juvenile
And as ephemeral.
ENDINGS
Overnight,
Like a peony,
Love may fall into a heap
Of petals
Or stand tall,
A pearly everlasting,
Nectorless,
Sundried.
A POEM FOR CARL SAGAN
(and NASA’s Natalie Bataha, who discovered Kepler 10)
“In order to let go, you have to be there
In the first place,” Carl said.
Walking and seeing, perceiving and feeling,
Attention must be paid:
Inspecting grains of sand, glimpsing exo-planets,
Forgetting the self,
Neurons interconnecting, concocting recipes,
Not “buying off the shelf.”
Though we are merely stardust
And to stardust must return,
Our flickers of light, in the midst of dark matter,
May provide some insight.
Snowfall sometimes frosts the pines
Bends them low, bowed, supine
Layers every twig and branch
Creates a winter wonderland
Bleaches white the forest floor
Covers every blemish over.
The perfection cannot last
Occurs to us as we drive past.