Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










from OLD WEIRD WONDER / I WAS BURIED WITH JUPITER AND MARS. by Dale Martin Smith

I was buried with Jupiter and Mars.
There were tulips wrapped in cellophane.
Lengthening days. Salt melting ice. Frozen trash.
Black streaks on shop windows. Sunlight and wind.
I wandered to no one’s home, an empty
nothing nest, not even memory
could stop getting lost, mixed up or conned.
Irish pub’s fiddle elegance. Stouts’
sudsy overflow on lips of glass.
I was lost enough not to say “forgotten”
or “unremembered.” An absence so deep
I can’t reach back to what’s gone to future
beginnings. Like the wild of a child’s
image next to him here now he is shining.

 
 

DALE MARTIN SMITH