Thursday, January 7, 2016

Poems&Pictures: The Fisherman Revisited

The guards stand straight, their coats gray patches 
against the dawning sky,
and peek their heads above
the glittering cover of mid-winter’s fortress.

And standing, waist deep

She is cloaked in velvet, but when she dances
her skirt fans out, currents of white lace. 
Over the strands of rippling silver
sits the crown of the ice queen.

And bowing down, hand over head

      Dawn light falls onto the guards, 
turning them from gray to gold. 
      Her tears fall onto the edges of his fedora.

      I see all this forty-eight years too late, 
from a yellowed canvas
or the brittle pages of a book.

     But I imagine a life where he takes my hand
     and asks me to come along.