Cerulean Light
by Joan Pond
On Greenwich Avenue,
Fred festooned a fir with lights.
“Jesus,” he said. “It just ain”t right.
I bought this string at CVS
and it”s already broke.
This Christmas stuff”s for the birds.
Man, it”s a joke.
I got no wife and my whole life”s changed.”
But when I shook his hand,
the blue lights lit.
“Holy shit!” he said. “It”s a miracle.”
And we stood,
bathed in cerulean light.
***
Originally published at Artvilla.com December 7 2004
A Fish Out of Water
So far from ocean,
here.
No pounding waves or crashing surf.
As Nantucket weighs,
heavy and deep.
In my sleep
I hear bell-buoys.
It”s only a dehumidifier
droning,
as the engine of a ship.
Yet,
I turn and list
avoiding shoals and reefs.
Tossing in my sleep,
I”m a fish on dry land
with a sered eye
of rainbow.
Ship-wrecked.
I dream
of
home.
***
Grains Of Sand
by Joan Pond
The sound of thunder,
and I”ll stand,
transfixed,
recalling a day with no boats on a lake,
only bull-heads darted toward the underpinnings of a dock
and concentric rings of water infinitely expanding.
I shouldn”t have taken him for granted
but savoured each moment,
holding them as grains of sand
not letting them slip to shore.
That moment,
would never be repeated;
only recalled when rings of water
infinitely expand
on the surface
of a lake.
***