Revival!

I have the advantage of being in a poetry class this semester and therefore being very productive. Here are a few of my favorite pieces, I'd love your input because my workshop class is not nearly as amazing as y'all.

1. Swimmer

A day long past the last day for
Hanging out in dust-encrusted lawn chairs relishing flourishing freckles,
Hanging secrets out to bleach with whites and kitchen towels between the house and the beach,
Hanging over the gunwales to capsize on purpose,

The afternoon was forever, so the darkness came as suddenly as
Music and beat painting a blank club before any partyhunters had arrived,
Someone’s too-young sister going out brunette and coming home blonde,
Understanding springing up between two plastic cup graspers and a box of wine.

A frumpy cardiganed woman who didn’t turn heads anymore
Centered herself in a sun salutation past sunset at the end of the dock.
In the morning, the Times thudded onto the dewey planks where she wasn’t anymore.
The water lapped like her orphaned cat and light rose over the blooms that wouldn’t be snipped and arranged.

She became a land-fish, handpicked by Poseidon for his air tank.


2. A Character
dislikes the disconcerting seasickness caused by chairs that spin.
ritualistically rips straw-wrapper tips, blows so the cannon lid pops off, flattens, accordions, and slips peacefully to rest beneath the diner table.
is a Jolly Rancher junkie.
needed to paint for a commission, but needed a release more, so bestowed uncontrolled pastel swipes of art on all the tree trunks down Fairwood Lane.
keeps a Tupperware full of washed eggshell halves and vague sculptural plans.
breeds goldfish named after silent film stars and falls asleep watching them dart in blue blur light on the television by his bed, an image streaming from a camera trained on the kitchen aquarium.
breakfasts on stale pita chips with a green Tobasco exclamation point.
sighs into shelved seashells, listens to reverberating whispers; makes a wish.


3. Love Poem for a Waitress

At the corner of 38th and Walnut,
the only trees are sudden
branching flashes from headlights
that disappear around the block.
McGill’s Restaurant fluorescents smooth
diners to sandstone. Cigarette smoke
and gossip filter under the overhead
scrutiny like sand through an hourglass.
Sand diners.
Sand diner timers.

After work, detergent designs evaporate
from drying dishes as you close open drawers
then hum your way through the Walnut St. forest
of light with leftovers to freeze, portioned for one.
You have a nice TV but skipping the news
instead you concentrate on flipping
pages, squinting out a story before switching
to pajamas. Glasses would suit you.
You chew your toothbrush, then your nails,
thumb the curtains for a moment, let them fall.

I know because our windows align.
You hide at McGill’s in the harsh fluorescents
because your face is soft in lamplight.
I’d like to clean dishes from dinner for two.