Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Regarding Your Jeans

I tried to stop myself, I really did try

but the water was so inviting

and the air was so humid

and I knew they were your jeans

that you had bought just

two weeks ago from our

favorite store

and I think most of the

saltwater smell will come out

in the wash. I’m sorry.

Next time

you should jump in with me.

Calf Pasture

I am eight, and my family

Is on the pier at
The beach. I see the swells

Of Long Island Sound, the

Seagulls emerging from air

And land and sea in a raucous

Chorus. I smell the air wafting

From the cold seawater, and the

Distinctive must of the pier’s old

Weatherbeaten wood. My dad is

Pointing out the islands, and

Grandma is correcting him with

Kind amusement and telling us

Of her own adventures at

Different beaches, in different

Times. And her white glasses

Mimic her white hair as she

Laughs, her purple-weined hand

Clutching a cane, and I

Smile now, in the remembering,

Even though she won’t swim

With us ever again.