Sunday, October 24, 2010

Poem of the Week #147

Four Causes of Spontaneous Tears

Two men in waders
fish off North Point,
bathed in morning sun.
I hear their voices call,
back and forth, as one.

We drive through farmland
just past town. The hills,
so many shades of green
and brown. You snore,
lips parted, as when a baby.

The carrousel spins me
round and round, my pony
charges up and down.
I laugh, then cry, then laugh again
betrothed to the calliope.

I lie alone beneath the stars,
become that teenage girl who hears
a song unfurl on late night radio.
It reminds me where I’m bound to go,
recalls where I have been.

Lisa Vihos

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