Everyone’s Birthday

A miraculous riverboat

divides the clustered flock

of walleye fish, those scaled lions

 

ponderously vast. Here cries

the lavender bud vying with the rose.

Here is the indentation of heel

 

pressed deep as the wader fades away,

baptized by dirt clouds and moss. There

is a summit here under the new June heat

 

undisguised where humble plums

are eaten on felled  stumps and naked

bottles of second-rate wine are shared

 

with southern gratitude. Thumps

the shone pot drummer, hums the grass

smoker, crooners the wet-faced  grinner. All

 

are recent neighbors lounging

in drunken shade speaking

of the bawdy congregation,

 

indecent brood who invites you

to come too. Reeking

of lilacs and smoked ham,

 

they wave.

You wave,

too.

 

The Crest of the Thing Perpetually Gleaming

Like All Good Bones and Porcelain

 

The bleached moon rises

through lacerated haze,

a chaffed elbow.

 

Unencumbered by shoulder,

the rote bone rises.

The gauze

 

of washcloths

trail the white vessel

through dark yards

 

of Colonial homes,

over sponge cake

pink azaleas,

 

slowly dragging

reminiscence like

a cold surface current.

  • Ashley Marie Scurto

    These are graceful, intuitive, and articulate. The ease with which you take up metaphor is inspiring. Bravo, SJ.