By Michael Hettich
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Extra resources for A small boat: poems
Snow starts to fall, filling everything with emptiness. My house was afire. My children were alone. I was walking huge circles, for the exercise. Arms flailed from windows I sang a silly song. . Inside, a bird calls, girl voice, growing already Page 46 something like a wave at a window: Someone waving goodbye, someone barking, someone buzzing into lightbulbs, someone flying into candlelight. I meant the ocean. Page 47 He Said atoms remain unchanged, no matter how many lives they are formed into or how they are gathered into such forms.
You look beyond me, your face and body suddenly a swan, long neck flexing to grab and pull me off the dock into the polished water I reflect in, dressed all in white. Swans change to clouds as I look into the water. 2. As kids we used square nets to catch minnows to catch snappers with. Spilled them all over the peeling dock and watched them flip-flopso cool and clean. Best to bait them still alive. My friends liked to throw knives into the mass of them: Thunk of the heavy fishing blade into the dock.
And in the morning he's just my door, good door through which, someday, I'll leave. Page 50 Lion for Burton Raffel Behind that door in a white room we keep a man who thinks he is a lion. You can see he's kept safe. He thinks he's a lion! Once he escaped and ran through the city. Disappeared. Changed his name. Actually this isn't him this is a lion. And this is a picture of the African plains. We'll slip it beneath his door now; he'll look at it smiling, draw an animal on it and himself running to catch it, slip the picture back under the door.
A small boat: poems by Michael Hettich