October 26, 2010From the Back Porch
1
the bathing suit hangs
limp black selkie skin
amid the honeysuckle
already yellowing
into sweetness
2
the grill huddles
age-blackened mollusk
a resentful creature that’s been dredged up
to pout here in a quiet corner
3
espresso has left me
helpless as Natalie’s limping black bicycle
which rests its bent shoulder
against the back shed like a drunk
unable to locate the exit
4
the wild daisies turn
their heads bemusedly upwards
the garden’s grown hectic
since my grandfather’s death
a Pollock-like profusion of vines
and brambles
5
from this distance the noise
of the breakers and the occasional jeep
blend into one perpetual hush
the sound my great grandmother made
as I lay fevered
her hand, against my back, a gull’s wing
from #24 - Winter 2005