The Ghent Review Volume1, Number 1, summer 2016 | Page 7

THE ONES I REMEMBER THE MOST, THE DOVE DRENCHED DAYS
the ones I remember the most, the dove drenched days
and the pristine trees fountaining with flowers;
gardenia evenings coming through the window;
the carport, the twilight mysteries.
nothing on tv;
just family feeling
and all the lights on;
the new magazines,
the Bauhaus and the Debussy;
and the ivoried light keeps playing it over.
the fresh ironed dresses
steamed for school;
the February gleam of
pink birthday parties,
Prang prepared art.
and nightlights in the dark.
fireflies in the yards.
don't try so hard or try
a little harder to
hold onto this:
the white clover starred,
the purple down the road.
all you will remember,
whispered kind angels,
is only the gold...
25 march 2016

THEY WANT US TO BELIEVE IN THE DARK AGES
they want us to believe in the Dark Ages.
we resist, throwing up colourful flares
as if they were party streamers
and pretend it's a holiday
not an emergency that never quite goes away.
and they send telegrams, furiously, day and night:
lo, the Ship is sinking out of sight but you
say to yourself,