in memory of my father
My first wish
is to be alone but
not lonely, to go beyond
the solemn high
mass of the
breakers to something simple
not frightening.
Outside our cottage
an old father sings
a mournful tune to
his baby and a yellow
kite vanishes.
No escaping
the card tricks, the King of
Hearts. Do you know the secret?
Your man is trapped.
Only one move
will save him.
This island wind
is uncovering. Jim blows
an eternal whistle. We take
it away. Then he whistles
through his teeth.
Let’s leave out
some of the words. Tell me
the lie you were going
to tell me.
Listen, I am
brushing my teeth.
Jane’s blackberry pie
is in the oven. I dream
I am a big woman
trying to squeeze into
a small coffin.
The pie crust doesn’t look
done. The sea commits me
to absolutely nothing.
It is too gracious
to make demands.
Shipwrecked sailors held on
and on.
Children run in
from the blackberry patch
full of irreligious innocent
stains. We rode through
a cloud, told ghost stories and
saw of a lot of bats. Did
you see the tombstones shining
after the gale? an old man
cried to me.
Paul says, “I’m an adult
going into ninth grade.
I’m not a sex maniac anymore.”
Across the fields a horse
runs wild.
I look for high
trees of protection
on this island but I can’t
find any. Ambushed indians
jumped off the bluffs
into the arms of
the little god. When
people die, I don’t know
what to say to them.
The green light of my eyes
of the lighthouse is twirling.
The green whistle, the green
kite, the green cottage
the green life
is changing color
