TRIANGULAR TRADE_Eyeshine

I would watch him lifting

another drink from the fridge,

joke about the connection

with a triangular trade -

bedroom to kitchen fridge,

then to the bathroom -

only to repeat the cycle

not knowing such comments

scratched his eyes

climbing through the window

for escape.

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CASTING ROCKS

Merely on edge,

the wharf in bad light

clinging to water's ledge -

a loon from afar

the Woods

closing with each sound.

Casting rocks toward moon's glare

lapidations laughing back,

the treacle of warm night

coaxing fire's glowing might.

Sudden, oceanic wilderness

breathless in barked silence -

and camphor to keep the flies at distance,

the anchored boat like a prison ship

dallying on the waves,

brambles & underbrush

sunken wet sand,

abundant berries rasp in thickets -

the cottage like a jar

closing for the night.

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