Coney Island

Coney Island

I loved to watch you dance.
Arms and legs akimbo,
eyes closed,

a smile spread across your face.

Others on the dance floor had to move out of your way.
They gawked;

you never saw them,

or if you did you never let on.

Those fools only

made me stand taller,
and dance harder,
proud to be your partner.

I loved to listen to your laugh,
that unique blast
part hic-up,

part guffaw.

On a hot day late in August,
after too much wine the night before,
we rode the cyclone

again and again.

Later, amongst a few off-season stragglers,
in the coolness of the circus tent,
we sat on the bleachers,

holding hands.

We watched a sword-swallower

do her tricks
I whispered something obscene,
you laughed loud.

She looked and asked,

“Is that your real laugh?”
And I asked “Is that a real sword?” .
then we ran away laughing.

In the hot sun again,
we asked a sweet old lady to take our picture.
She focused your camera on us

and motioned for us to back up.

Farther, farther,

and farther still.
You, ever the New Yorker,

thought she was trying to steal your camera.

Lindsay Riggs Brown

Faith

Faith

Withered
on a vine,
like
raisins;
raisins;
sweeter
than grapes.

Grapes
altered,
grapes
transformed,

no longer grapes,
now, something more.

Lindsay Riggs Brown

Bequest

Bequest

(for P.M.)

I wanted to leave
you something
a Blue Jay’s feather
drifting down
from nowhere

Maybe the tulips
I planted

near that tree
will poke through
a late spring snow

A tide-worn

shard of sea glass
with an initial
mine or yours
washing up

in a wave

at your feet

I might come to you
while you sleep
and tell you things
I meant to say
long before
I went away

Lindsay Riggs Brown

Measures

Measures

The measure of a filament
a weightless bit of nature’s tatted lace
ill-gotten
all that’s left of
a fallen leaf.

The measure of a human soul
twenty-one grams
of Robin's-egg-blue

won by deception
held in the palm of my hand
for one short summer.

The measure of human beauty
every inch
in the eye of the beholder
a honey bee,
a smooth piece of plum colored sea-glass,
and a poem.

Lindsay Riggs Brown

Visible Thread

Visible Thread

Opened
Faded
Un-insulated
I am the visible thread
of a spider’s web.

Lindsay Riggs Brown

Give and Take

Give and Take

I give
you take
multi-colored silk
from a magicians
breast pocket.

I push
you pull
circus clowns
from a Volkswagen beetle.

Lindsay Riggs Brown

Shelter

Shelter

Half-

way in,
human

sounds

disappear.
Timbers creak
in the highest pine.
Perhaps, I will build

my nest in there;
a shelter from the storm

Half-way in,
sitting on a fence;
waiting for the world to catch up.
Enamored by a chipmunk’s stripes;
obsessed with the thought of a mockingbird’s native song.
Perhap, I will build my nest in here. a shelter from the storm

Lindsay Riggs Brown