Day 17: Interlude

The light sits by the length of the pool

and dips itself in shy tremors

like a curious child brimming

to discover the liquid world.

Tiles at the corner of the pool

fade away, melting lines

as I swim past the lamp

a water moth attracted to the reflection

of a set sun

or moon.

 

The short apartments in all their 3-storied stature

and the once upon a times and happily ever afters

of their inhabitants

surround the pool on all three sides.

The homely porch lights greet returning fathers

with warm voices and the tinkle of scratched cutlery

that fit the contours of one’s palm –

they live in the cosiest French restaurants of their making.

 

Floating on my back the constructions cradle me

like a fracture in a shell, a window into the world

the lamp a rich yolk

chlorine water the whites

and I, a content blemish.

 

The warmth of a bowing day lingers on

as the next performer takes humble stage

with piano notes of rich tone

and quiet bliss that float down

in inert cascades

to soak in an interlude.

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2 thoughts on “Day 17: Interlude

  1. I feel like a stooge trying to comment on good poetry. I haven’t the words to properly express my appreciation of the work. Yet I feel compelled to try anyway. At any rate, I enjoyed this very much, so thank you for sharing it.

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