Statue of a Gorgon

She was found standing naked in front of a mirror.
The vipers on her head,

Which once hissed and writhed in eagerness,
Were now frozen.
She held a golden orb in her left hand
And in her right, raised high
A glass decanter full of wine.
She seems to have wanted to play the temptress.
Only, the expression on her face
Was one more of surprise than
Seductiveness. She was seeing herself for the first time,
And though she was prepared for death,
Nothing could have prepared her
For the final understanding of what she was.

Coffins on the Shore

At low tide, the beach was covered with coffins.
For miles I walked, utterly baffled
And afraid that I had passed on to the other side,
And though I was tempted,
I dare not open a single one
For fear that I would see a familiar face.
The seagulls seemed not to think it strange.
They perched upon the coffins, and pecked
At their wings, and the tiny fiddler crabs
Maneuvered around them without a second thought.
The sun was singing its sepulchral hymn in the sky.
The waves persisted further into shore,
But somehow I felt that time had died
And nothing really existed anymore.
As I considered this, the caskets opened
And out walked all the forgotten figures from my dreams.
They paused, as if trying to remember,
And looking my way, remembering,
Walked into the sea.

Maria

I first met Maria in a psychiatric hospital
Just outside Cincinnati.
Her doctor insisted that she undergo
Shock therapy, but she refused.
She said she had important business in the
Outside world, and needed her mind
As it was, free and undefiled.
She left to go live with her mother
Upstate, where, it just so happened,
I went camping with a friend one summer.
I saw her one night, hiking
Along the river bank.
She was trudging barefoot in the mud,
Dressed in tatters, humming a tune,
And carrying a tote bag.
She stopped me, opened her bag,
And showed me the contents.
Inside were glowing, yellow balls.
She said they were stars,
And, with her thumb and forefinger,
Proceeded to pluck one from the sky.
She handed it to me, and walked away,
Continuing to hum her simple, happy tune.

Lying in the Hammock

I’m lying in the hammock tonight,

Rocking gently back and forth

Beneath the cloudless sky.

The crickets try to sing me to sleep

But my mind is too full of restless scheming

For me to even close my eyes.

Instead, they dart from star to star

Which, I think, are not

The souls of long-dead kings

Or ancient gods.

They are moments I have yet to live,
Harbingers to a distant fate
On the other side of time.

One star, near the apex of the sky,

Shines especially bright tonight.

This star is a moment I long for
More than all the rest.

And yet, perhaps, this light,

Which seems so distant,

Is here with me, now,

And every wish I’ve ever made,

Every prayer I’ve sent to God

Is being answered by this light.

This star at the apex of the sky

Is the moment I am living, now.

The hammock rocks beneath me

And I close my eyes.

The light of the star lingers in my mind

And soon I find myself sinking

Into the silver ocean of the moon.