LA MER DES SARGASSESHere is the scar where my uncle ran the forklift into the barn,the holes in the wall the result of rat-hunting at a dime-a-head. This tree's called Benjamin because the boy
When I drove the mustang to the city of my
dreams,
I played mistress in the capital of chandeliers
and fountains
Familiar landscapes admit legion possibilities--
But in this city of strangers I am anxious,
dully bouyant.
What a farce of seedy tourist shadows. These
leering
Copyright 2000, Heather Cauchy
Heather Shaw has lived in Mexico, Spain, New York and New Orleans, and is currently raising six children in Northern Michigan. In 1999, she won the Dunes Review poetry contest as well as the Peregrine Prize . Recent work appears in Gumball and Rhino.
|