Around The Block

after A. R. Ammons “The City Limits”
http://poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15225

Walk with me around the block where we have lived
for two dogs, four cats and two children; if you wish,
we can take our old dog and young granddaughter;

our friend next door is divorced, her children
are at college and she is creating her new life; a doctor
lived here who was kind to me, and changed himself

to a woman; Regina, the horse, lived fifty-two years
in this pasture; in this house, a Halloween hot wax
bowl made ghostly duplicate hands; once the St. Bernard visited

and shocked our kitten who attached to his nose
like the sausage in The Three Wishes; before their graduations,
children skated this pond, sledded our hill; our son’s friend

enemy friend lived on this corner; across the street,
our daughter’s friend moved away; a lawyer and his wife
live around the next corner with their grandchildren

like us, and tough-love addicted children like us; the poet
beyond the turn is my mentor; once the dog who lived
here grieved our dog’s loss, but she is gone; over there

the curmudgeon bachelor made a home for lost children
and stray animals, he and his house are gone but a coyote
lives there; around the corner up the hill, the ancient

from Harvard carved a stone for his wife in woods
he lets us walk, he now believes conspiracies; it’s not
too steep, then we are home, then we are home.

Hello

Newspapers wait

at monogrammed gates

of the big house

across the street

where big trucks

arrived worked

announced their reversals

making the house perfect

for three who moved in

and locked the gates

The Derby

He
grasps line, doubles
rod – feels male, more
competition than dalliance. Hoping,
daring, challenged by The Derby,
alone, off-shore, naive sea
peace. Big one testing
our filament.
Spooling,
tighten drag,
don’t line out, turning,
retrieving. Turns away,
against drag, against tide.
Reverse boat, clumsy chase
backward, not steering, reeling,
tip up, tip up. Spool out,
back boat, reel in.
Dark
shadow,
what’s that? Dorsal
fin, great rolling belly,
white belly, half boat length,
boat length away. Skin plucks
taut line, nervous both ends. My
fish, goddammit, him and me, not you!
Awkward maneuver boat, fish,
shark. Lazy arrogance,
shark continues,
seals ahead.
Hour,
no give, line
binds, 7,000-pound boat,
unweighed fish, 12-pound
test. Must be big, Derby winner,
picture taken, little speech,
Hemmingway. Con-
centrate.
Half
hour,
arms tired – he
must be tired. Raise
him? No. Spool out,
hard to back, wind slaps
stern, sea peace gone, gusts
coming. Run again, waves top
stern, not safe. Pay attention.
What are we going to do here, fish?
He
lets go.
No tug, snap,
just release, simple easy,
end of handshake – good game,
sport. Game over, rewind line,
seaweed. Was that it,
just weed?
No
one
watched, I
never saw him. Hope
pride, imagination? Gone,
he didn’t get lure, I didn’t
get him, nor shark. No
trophy, no pictures,
nothing but
poem.