Beached boats at Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer
He divides the canvas
in unequal halves of
equal size, a bladed
horizon for skies and earth,
for man and woman, rich
and poor, birds and poets.
The easel shifts on the
burning sand, reacting to
the brushes and to the
knife’s applied pressure,
causing lines to
wobble, planes to interact.
The seasonal seagulls
think his tilted cap an
unlikely tourist nest, and
none approach for
all his naked crumbs.
Fishing boats like clay
cooking pots send
wooden masts spooning
across the border, to test
the imminent waters.
Soon, beloved. Soon, there
will be startled crows flying
over yellow fields of wheat.
***
One unlistener or another
At someone’s someone’s funeral,
dutifully solemn yet unavoidably
detached, automatically checking
out the prettier mourners. One
among a theater made of stony
faces, all gaping at the covered
gurney. A relative trembles her
goodbyes to the unlistener. A mild
rain keeps time on the colorful
parasolesque bouquets. Umbrellas
flower among the marble slabs,
augmenting one meaning or another
for the endless names, but great
legs would be great legs anywhere.
***
Cavatina
soon, the path will end
off a cliff, or shriveled
into broken rocks
in the inner desert
but not against a
brick wall, not that
of a roadside diner
where a waitress walks
barefoot and the coffee’s
warm and sweet, sitting
at the window-side
booth to challenge all
passing cars to stop
and pause a while, where
some days are not
as long as others,
but not as short, and
someone plays the
last song on the jukebox,
over, and over again,
like leaves
yes, that, after all
***
Secret intentions
It matters that they are
unequally ripe, you say,
but in a good way.
I show you that something
is exposed under one tomato’s
peel, pulsing in the pulp like
so many veins and continents
and place them on the counter
as would a doctor, vulnerable,
so you will see for yourself.
If I had proposed, then,
you would have accepted.
I plant the narrow-leafed
ash to ward off the sun, and
build a wall to fool the wind
for you, yet you persist –
Is that the meaning of the ash?
Is that the meaning of the wall?
The stones in the stone
wall are simple stones,
while the ash’s intent is
spreading more ashes.
***
Colibri
At eighteen the time
has come to be wed.
A husband was
found. A dress sewn
somewhat tightly. The
seamstress said –
raise and lower your
arms. Just like a bird.
A small hall was
rented. A band
played Aris San for
the dancing, and you
spread your arms
up and down and flew
in all directions, but
could not be relieved.
Like a hummingbird.