Fishbowl of Ice
You gather ice in a fishbowl, slowly
and aimlessly wandering along a road.
How can you bear it? Your heart’s throbbing,
and you’re so lonely that you could
build, build, build a new set of wings!
Now you’re flying along an ancient path
like a wind-tossed muse. You carry
a bouquet of squash blossoms and feel
abandoned by the power of love.
You light candles in the sand with a wave
of your wrinkled hand! Denied the river,
you bare your soul to the wind warbling
in a nest on your doorstep. As you walk
in the door, the sweet sound of the sea
leaves you heartbroken. If only you had
trusted the playful, shifty wisdom of the wind.
The Outsiders
When last they met, it was
a spiritual time when storms
turned cinders to gold. They
arrived, all mad with power
and gilded with unusual seaweed.
They danced for penguins who
imagine a life without pain.
It was the ultimate act of friendship,
thought-provoking and personal.
What were they thinking when
forced out of their sanctuaries
by soldiers in a storm? They
didn’t shave their heads, but
they sure embarrassed this swami
mothering a dog, and they never
saw it coming. The strange flower
of forgiveness loved them,
doing them justice by taking
one day at a time. Last night,
it sprayed them while they slept,
and then the neighbors welcomed them.
Cliff Saunders is the author of several poetry chapbooks, including Mapping the Asphalt Meadows (Slipstream Publications) and This Candescent World (Runaway Spoon Press). His poems have appeared recently in Bryant Literary Review, Atlanta Review, Phantom Drift, Lullwater Review, Inscape Journal, The Phoenix, The Main Street Rag, and Tipton Poetry Journal. Originally from Massachusetts, he now lives in Myrtle Beach, SC.
You gather ice in a fishbowl, slowly
and aimlessly wandering along a road.
How can you bear it? Your heart’s throbbing,
and you’re so lonely that you could
build, build, build a new set of wings!
Now you’re flying along an ancient path
like a wind-tossed muse. You carry
a bouquet of squash blossoms and feel
abandoned by the power of love.
You light candles in the sand with a wave
of your wrinkled hand! Denied the river,
you bare your soul to the wind warbling
in a nest on your doorstep. As you walk
in the door, the sweet sound of the sea
leaves you heartbroken. If only you had
trusted the playful, shifty wisdom of the wind.
The Outsiders
When last they met, it was
a spiritual time when storms
turned cinders to gold. They
arrived, all mad with power
and gilded with unusual seaweed.
They danced for penguins who
imagine a life without pain.
It was the ultimate act of friendship,
thought-provoking and personal.
What were they thinking when
forced out of their sanctuaries
by soldiers in a storm? They
didn’t shave their heads, but
they sure embarrassed this swami
mothering a dog, and they never
saw it coming. The strange flower
of forgiveness loved them,
doing them justice by taking
one day at a time. Last night,
it sprayed them while they slept,
and then the neighbors welcomed them.
Cliff Saunders is the author of several poetry chapbooks, including Mapping the Asphalt Meadows (Slipstream Publications) and This Candescent World (Runaway Spoon Press). His poems have appeared recently in Bryant Literary Review, Atlanta Review, Phantom Drift, Lullwater Review, Inscape Journal, The Phoenix, The Main Street Rag, and Tipton Poetry Journal. Originally from Massachusetts, he now lives in Myrtle Beach, SC.