Three Times
(c) Gloria Potter
From The Last White Rose (1999)
No water in the hilly woods;clogged
streams and crowded river banks
below. So I Suppose
were I
that thirsty doe last night
I too should have gulped, neatly,
the last white rose.
river fog
unfolds its spotless
comforter from sea
to hills; before night it comes--
a patient mother covering
shoulders, offering feathery
stories, calming the old
day's night.
From Kiss, Kiss (1996)
of death
Not til June
would interest
complete its cy
cle. Not 'til
her investment
closed would crying cease &
("that's the end
of that tune!")
something new replace the due
date...with a kiss
From The Table 1998-1999
Doran Beach in January
sees passionate bay and cap
tured harbor scheme a scheme
to join the sea. they skim
in windy disguises, foam
and spray before the touted
storm; they meet horizon's
looks of alarm. with shouts
of hurry surfers roam their waves
swarm to shore. on a worried
shelf of sand kelp rolls among
scurries of snipes, the cover scene
for cold times making plans below
and holding tickts for Japan.