Marooned Bells

Marooned on a couch brown raft -rocking lle-de-France

Sullen blackboard jazz blowin from across the navy New Orleans seas.

 

Slo-mo angels doing somersaults on my torn red curtain reverie

in these broken Halloween bones and mask

I rummage through the ashes that crashed me into

this pink, new golden face dawn..

 

floating past jagged-edged icicles into the night melting

chocolate Clark Terry’s “They Didn’t Believe Me.”

 

Love lost is something we can never afford

head stuck on a starboard mast

crashing through storm waves painted in dead dreams.

 

And feeling that familiar frost-bitten regret again- that we never 

consummated the close quarters of then,,,what are regrets other than

dead sea gulls floating in a ghost soup sea.

Poem Michael D. Amitin,
Photograph Julie Peiffer