Flash (Another Alaska Photograph) #6

I think of him rumpled     / rough —
well-read and underschooled —
a man with a rifle then     — with
his thin white tie

wrapped gentlemanly around him —
and September
everywhere     — shining on him
as need or her arrangements

have decided     — as love and beholding
ask of him     — gazing
ahead     — almost to speak     — and
privileged to know so much

as women might inspire     — but still
as this pond tonight —
letting the light pour through
or move along like history —

until there's his voice     / her voice —
until there's this lightness now —
with lifetimes yet      / with Fairbanks
as yet     — where two

will sit as asked to make a picture —
where two are sitting
to catch their breath     — are fed
on growing light —

whispering who-knows-what to whom
and the new morning —
or framed on this table now     — in
this cathedraled room

where we are reasoned in their likeness —
opening their eyes     / their minds
almost a hundred years ahead     — until
they are fabled yes

/ are sharing this light that's now
a hundred years
and something other     — where
the beams look down

/ the ceiling-high bricks seem dressed
by their long guns
and Christmas wreathing     — as if
this were Maylight

/ Alaska still     — beginning all around —
completing their common wish
for common game and sharing meals —
and the stories do not let go —

with nothing but these for us
to go on     — describing
the prettied rooms     / the raw boards
rough with finished light

or procreation     — shaping the lives
we think to follow
as they've asked us     / the flirts
as they were

outdoors     — or on the sheets
drawn back
/ drawn close     — made
warm to our desire.

 

© Appetite (2)