.................................
Comfortable
.................................

Drive into the white lake
or the black one
black-and-white
I am comfortable sitting here
here where I have been all these years
Winding a little trouble in
just like a bowling alley I suppose
Just keep driving it hardly matters
later you'll tell me what a good time you had

I bet you rarely worry about it the white white lake
you worry more than I do
sometimes I think you will drink it all up
or that we will only skate upon it
or on good days I know we will swim in it someday
could be another lifetime if the water's too cold or crowded

and I love you I love you
It is clear your hand
burned a palm-print on my back
smoothed my hair down my neck made a bruise there
passion the little mallard duck

a curl in his tail

The white white lake the deep deep water

 
.................................
White Heart
.................................

Siren, rabbit track, paths
for mailmen. Plowing
cemetery roads. Five inches
weightless big flakes
barely
touching, piling
up and up on gravestones, phone
wires, squirrel
nests. Silver velvet leaves still
alive
on the table next to my birthday
flowers, and the garden of moss
in a flat square dish
now sprouting fragile seedlings--O my brother
put it together, he
who's been hiding all night. Cats
leap into the blue wrapping paper
tossed
on the floor. O
and as I write the snow
is stopping.

In the silence my silent body
grows another fine white heart.

.................................
Diane Wald
.................................

 
Copyright © Diane Wald
April 1997

...several poems in this room by Zoogirl...
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