Sandy Solomon: My Friend Seems Near Tears
Look at her, so tall and beautiful
when she forgets herself, her whole body
lit with a sloppy, ungovernable brightness
Sandy Solomon: On a Visit to Friends
I’m drawn to the window where the hummingbirds
come; the shrill sound of wings precedes them;
then they hover at the red sugar water,
feeding before they’re gone.
Sandy Solomon: Pears, Lake, Sun
Pears on a sunlit ledge, flashes of lake,
how the poised world pressed itself
through the floating surface of that day,
how the manifest made its mark.
Sandy Solomon: In Deepest February
The heavy snow has split the oak out front,
its right branch lodges in a parked car’s roof
and splays across the windshield and the hood.
Sandy Solomon: Lost, Departed, Late
In the Serengeti four elephants rest without heads,
bodies rising like boulders from the plain…
Sandy Solomon: Widow
An amputated leg, they say, tingles,
an ear long deaf still jangles the brain:
the body asserts the integrity of its parts…