I'm sure you don't think of these things in Jerusalem

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Two or three times a year
we swam, marco-poloed
guided by underwater lights
and speeding cars on a Kyalami highway.

We insisted on staying in the deep end
lifting our bodies out
only after sunset
palms flat on wet, hot brick
as chlorine-liquid swept
down, back, in on itself
creating waterfalls
on our spines.

After we dried off,
Rudi lit roman candles
and gave me his purple shirt
from Guatamela to wear.

Then
he grew a beard
and outgrew us.

His Guatamelan shirt still fits.

© nancy

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hands folded shut

295 points

on 04/22/07 at 09:41 AM

Fantastic; I agree with Michael about your style. It truly is your own! The last two stanzas are my favorite part of the poem; it drives home the poem with a quiet yet recognizable power. Great work.
Nick Miller

22,566 points

on 04/19/07 at 04:44 PM

Another great.  I love reading your poems. They speak very clearly to me and the style is so uniquely your own, perfect, that is.

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