Snapshot: Breakup

she asked,
what do you really want?
i said,
i’m sure i do not know.

she stared out at the endless sea,
and watched the wavelets come and go

and as the summer turned a page,
the daylight dimmed as by a switch –
and love grew old, or maybe me —
i still cannot remember
which

snowshots

you took your camera out into the snow
with joy upon your face of twenty-three,
and laughter swelled upon the fields in drifts
and rang across the hollow through the smoke

from chimneys up and down the backyard way,
as images of icicles and frost
and crystalline embodiments you shot,
in days before you’d ever know how good

a picture was, until developing
the film, you’d see if any was worth much
of anything worth keeping then for viewing,
it all was feel, and happenstance, and chance,

just like a snowfall in a southern winter,
just like a day of laughter in the snow,
just like a memory that’s slowly fading,
your words, your face, your laughter, and your voice


Photo credit : ID 49849775 Talashow | Dreamstime.com

Alicia at the Fountain

She placed her lips upon a stream
Of pure and crystal water;
That kids behind might push and shove,
Experience had taught her.

And so, she looked back as she drank,
The marble walls, a spectrum —
Then stepped off carefully, to better
Make room for the next one.

She studied, then, the walls up close,
As others tried the fountain;
The pair of steps, for some of them,
Were more or less a mountain.

Though I was seven, like the rest,
My memory can see them —
Alicia at the fountain on
A trip to the

Museum