The Addiction for Mermaids

Oh beloved,
I lay naked under the sea
contently kelp-anchored
and serene.

Oh beloved,
you call on each and every wave
frothy and young,
erect

in the wind of my memory.

I swim once a year for a season
wearing rust and red
on my silver breasts,
my tail flashing like teeth.

Oh beloved,
you throw lines hopeful
to entice a fight,
one glimpse

of my rare back
in the morning as the sun
heaves into town.

Oh beloved,
will you drift in a red or green boat
all day, sitting or standing,
murmuring prayers

you won't allow
any others to hear?
I hear the bass notes

as they fall like small black stones,
voiceless
and vibrating into my bedroom.

I am not hungry
you understand,
I do not seek you

and only if you chance
the right place,
perfect time

with a hoax
of color and feather
it dawns on me

to bite.





c2009 Flood Water Press

thepostofficepoems.blogspot.com

News!

Hello dear readers. I've posted the new poem on the post office bulletin board. There was a tiny note tacked onto the last poem--we've been invited to have some of the poems published in the Fall City Newsletter.

Well, pour some tea or brew some rich coffee, settle back and read the poem "Sherry" below. It is dedicated to a special young woman so many of those living in Fall City knew. Especially if they enjoyed a meal or two, or a cup of coffee at the Raging River.

May your holiday be safe, full of family, friends, and pie.

peace,
Anonymous

Sherry

The river hangs bells for Christmas
along the sand turned crystal.
My steps disturb them just enough,
and the gentle chimes
and watery words
say this:

Goodbye,
to the sun we remember
crossing your girl-moon face,

goodbye
to words dropped on the table
between you and the rest of us,

my coffee cup,
our napkin,
a plate of all good things.

And more than the food,
the sweetness,
more than the sun,
now before us this winter
without you,

more than your children,
your family,
more than our grief,

is this--

ice bells on the river,
silence,
the frozen steps in sand,

--reminders you're closer now
to everything.

I feel you here even at the farm,
as alpacas saunter from the barn
and the air warms

before the next snow comes.

I will feel you at the gathering
of mourners, we'll talk about you,
you'd be embarrassed but it's ok.
We're all bringing lucky pots,
I made brownies.

I will feel you in the teary eyes,
the gulp of air your sister takes
while telling the story of your passing,

how your heart skipped away,
Thanksgiving was an unsteady boat,
your oars fell, you slipped from us so gently,
like water, like a song that ends too soon,

like the sun turned cold for a day
and a night,

we looked up
and you were gone.

But I remember,
and when I see the photo on the poster
on the door to the Saloon

it all comes back.
You come back in the telling,
in the memory,

in the thousands of bells
chiming the completion

of your interrupted song.




for Sherry
because we love you

c2009 Flood Water Press

Tread Lightly the Salmon are Listening

Steelhead churn up the flank of the river,
four fishermen up to their knees
angle their lines into the sky,
I drive over the archway
twisting right at the roundabout,
jealous because it's Wednesday
and they must be taking the day off.
What did they say, "I'm sick,
I've got an appointment,
the kid's sick,
the kid's got an appointment"?
Maybe the boss was on the river too.
All I want to do is walk
that rock-filled shore
in the gold light of December.
Froze last night.
The river's down.
Not much wind
and thank God, no rain.




for Jerome at the fish tackle store




c2009 Flood Water Press

New Poem Coming and Update of the Bulletin Board

Hello Readers. So sorry for the delay in posting the latest poem. I believe two weeks went by while I was preparing and moving to an alpaca farm. A charming English cottage on a few bright acres, four alpacas, two dogs, two chickens and two cats, along with a British nanny. Not that I need one, well maybe I do. She owns the cottage and made me oatmeal and coffee for breakfast.

The new poem is titled, "Tread Lightly the Salmon are Listening". It was written at the North Bend library last night and posted on the bulletin board in Fall City about 9:30 pm. I don't know if you've been by the post office lately, but the bulletin board is beautiful! Someone has taken great care in arranging the various holiday posters, announcements, for rent notices, etcetera and the last poem I posted had matching tacks, two purple at the top and two blue at the bottom if I remember right. I took a quick cell phone photo of the board and collected my mail.

Enjoy the new poem. Still wanting to be out on the river instead of working since the sun is out again today. Take care, hug your child today, tell someone you love them.

Anonymous