Merizo
Evening swimming off the pier Small fish leaping Their silver caught by the last rays of sun I leave as the fishermen arrive They wait until dark to catch Their solitary lines Drowsing in the quiet.
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Sushi
I was nineteen and illegally camping in a bird reserve. My friends and I had met the man one day wandering the beach. Ten hours and a bottle of tequila later he and I were contemplating sex. I had the body of a goddess, a small goddess, and he was red haired and bearded, a …
The River Breaks
by Mary McCarthy (Notes) on Saturday, July 30, 2011 at 8:15pm Sunday afternoon, parked by the river, I sat in a friend’s car sharing a Reese’s cup and staring listlessly out at a pile of dirty snow. She said, “Can you see the water? I am imagining a tropical sea with the moon shining down on the …
the Tropics at 5 in the morning
by Mary McCarthy (Notes) on Sunday, July 31, 2011 at 1:48am I wake in early morning, almost before the roosters The rain has not yet arrived fully Still a light and thoughtful spray A few stars still out, a crescent moon Tossed with morning clouds. Even the frogs are asleep A yard light on guard The wind …
Loon Poems
Loon Poem I It is summer the loons dive and pirouette toward one another No one else exists The humans are safely away Crouching by their campfires While I, and unlikely witness Watch as they dance across the river playing. Loon Poem II Escher could have dreamed you Geometry of black and white You are …
Chop Wood, Carry Hay
There are some things we do not want to be right about. For the last several weeks as the country “opens up” I have watched the folks around me behave as if Covid-19 is a thing of the past. I do not believe this. It is a weird position to hold in my area. It …
The Sad Divide
On the way back from Mexico, at the end of the first week of March, I looked at everyone, wondering if they would be alive in a year. I understood clearly that I might be carrying a deadly bug back with me. The guy on line in back of me in Mexico City, at Freida …