Third Act
Posted: 04 Jul 2018, 07:24
Revision #2
The winter stage empties
except for a baritone.
I fire the grill.
David Szirtes and Paul Mellon
arrive to watch
the Kansas - Iowa State game.
We sit before
the TV in school colors
like Navajo women tending
a cook fire.
We smoke. Talk politics.
Later, I write down a poem
thinking I might read it
to her in the tub's white spell.
The translucent water
like falling asleep in snow.
Revision #1
The winter stage empty except
for an opera baritone
and the two of us.
I start the electric grill. David Szirtes
and Paul Mellon arrive to watch
the Kansas - Iowa State game.
We sit before the TV in school colors
like Navajo women tending a cook fire.
The stealthy night passes.
I wrote down a poem
thinking we might read it together
in the white spell of the tub.
The translucent water
a basking surface
like falling asleep in snow.
Original
The winter stage empty except
for an opera baritone.
The waves empty out of swimmers.
Birds lift off leaning south.
I start the electric grill. David Szirtes
and Paul Mellon arrive to watch
the Kansas - Iowa State game.
We sit before the TV in school colors
like Navajo women tending a cook fire.
Restless all night, I wrote down a poem
thinking we might read it together
in the white spell of the tub.
Your lean ballerina foot clean
as winter Bolshoi, the water’s fevrille
glass surface like falling asleep in snow.
The winter stage empties
except for a baritone.
I fire the grill.
David Szirtes and Paul Mellon
arrive to watch
the Kansas - Iowa State game.
We sit before
the TV in school colors
like Navajo women tending
a cook fire.
We smoke. Talk politics.
Later, I write down a poem
thinking I might read it
to her in the tub's white spell.
The translucent water
like falling asleep in snow.
Revision #1
The winter stage empty except
for an opera baritone
and the two of us.
I start the electric grill. David Szirtes
and Paul Mellon arrive to watch
the Kansas - Iowa State game.
We sit before the TV in school colors
like Navajo women tending a cook fire.
The stealthy night passes.
I wrote down a poem
thinking we might read it together
in the white spell of the tub.
The translucent water
a basking surface
like falling asleep in snow.
Original
The winter stage empty except
for an opera baritone.
The waves empty out of swimmers.
Birds lift off leaning south.
I start the electric grill. David Szirtes
and Paul Mellon arrive to watch
the Kansas - Iowa State game.
We sit before the TV in school colors
like Navajo women tending a cook fire.
Restless all night, I wrote down a poem
thinking we might read it together
in the white spell of the tub.
Your lean ballerina foot clean
as winter Bolshoi, the water’s fevrille
glass surface like falling asleep in snow.