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A woman's plaintive
voice,
in the near-empty parking lot,
early evening, There you are;
There you are.
A child gone missing
from Kmart?
Or a long lost lover returned out of nowhere?
I imagine red hair a-flurry, a quick,
forward step in high heals.
And again, There you
are,
the syllables long, the ache in her voice
enough, even with my own hurry,
arms full of groceries
and my upright upbringing,
to turn me around:
a small flock of gulls,
their yellow beaks wide.
Poem ©
Patrice Vecchione 2004-2005. All rights reserved.
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He crawled over
cracked crevices
and nicked his knees on gray
granite. Threadbare to the core,
he arrived at Annapurna.
The bodhisattva, brown and lotus
positioned, unmoved by mere human
need, stared at space, under the cap
of mountain and immortality.
“What is the meaning of life,
great guru of enlightenment?”
In a tongue I knew, he cackled,
“Life is but a fluffy cloud.”
“You got to be kidding me! Life’s a cloud?!”
“You mean it isn’t?”, he said surprised.
Poem ©
Jim Fowler 2004-2005. All rights reserved. |
