Thursday, September 1, 2011

an air-conditioned thursday

It is very hot outside. And humid.

Poem For A New Apartment, Joanne Diaz

Let your new space ripen
like the berries that sit
in your refrigerator-
cool, blue, heavy. See the glass
bowl on your table, how it marks
time, its spare light caught in the door
frame's speckled paint. Look
to the oily ships and barges
beneath your ledge, sluggish
with autumn cold. Notice the floor's
dark grain weave a bay - no, a river -
of reflection, and somewhere,
beyond this place an inlet, then an ocean
wide with shine, crowded
with fish, their light fins
sweeping the current. I saw
them move. I know.

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