Friday, February 22, 2013

B.Z. Niditch- Three Poems


The gardener
in kid gloves
between two twin
Japanese maples
asks to play
with an easy
phlegmatic indifference
of nonchalance
shadows me
on the tarmac
and knocks me out
on the first round
blinded by quickness
and sleight of hand
we laugh over a beer
feeling a year younger
while dozing
under the sun.


In my absence,
remember the wind
flakes and first frost
on a red scarf,
the neon butterfly
along the bike path
on your left shoulder
rising on the curtain
of aspens
and revived
in a picture I still have,
the apricot muffins
you made for me
in cooking class
I murdered
in two minutes
at the gym
eating on the ropes
and sent up
to the principal's office
for another reprimand
and the trout caught
in the wilderness pond
and eaten by the fort
of native Americans
at the outside fire,
and sharing Casablanca
and the Treasure
of the Sierra Madre
without the locals
spying on us,
yes, in my absence,
recall the blizzard
of '78,
the long lists
and resolutions
for goofy vacations,
all the random
sounding echoes
of my alto sax
by the nearby pond
by Reggie, the rabbit
you kept alive.


When another day
will decide the matter
and harmony
will hit you
in your sun burn
go back to sea shore
by the dead waters
of your childhood
where salmon
once lived
and breathed
like these words
along the home harbor
by the granite
hot seat of stone
by picnic tables
of freshly baked
Italian bread
and salad
where you acted out
Marilyn imitations
trying  to be good
for yourself.

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