Sharp Words
You stand by the splitter
I helped you assemble
sweating
gloves stained with
sap and hydraulic fluid
effortlessly
hoisting fat sections of trees
onto the metal cradle
expertly
guiding the blade
into the heart of the log
holding it steady
as pressure splits the wood in two
just as your words do
me
Fogbound
San Francisco fog
cascades into the bay
through golden gates
pours over house-studded hills
swirls across streets like
heavy cream in coffee
muffling sounds
of The City
Maine fog
descends with avian grace
like feathers falling
blurs spruce-tipped horizons
erases islands
fades into the heaven of old movies
as gulls sing wild melodies
with fog horns
When we met
you rolled into my life
filled with bold promises
dramatic dreams
teasing, testing
you always kept me
just outside your fog line
When did you change?
Your slow, sensuous
maritime mists
envelop me, hold me
calm and steady
kiss my lips
with salt spray
God, I hope you never lift
© 1997 by Karen Dowell, all rights reserved
A writer and poet, Karen lives on an
island off the coast of Maine with
a big band trumpet player and her two
labs. Her poetry has appeared in several
online publications and will be featured
in an upcoming issue
of Visions International. You can read
more of her work at the Athens
Avenue Poetry Circle.
contact this author