Rosanne Wasserman – 2 Poems

Rosanne Wasserman

2 Poems

Laps

each deafness wet like peace but what’s the warm-up? odd lots more of same a fog-free deep tile-shivered flag three sharp edges antiseptic blue in this natorium, sunshine in that natorium, shade one pool so small in a big hotel I circled, fish in bowl after the horror of regular motion, joy in growing strong head out, head back last few, last two dream of repetition never the same turn twice can’t count to eight I lose my place equipage: goggles Casio countdown timer midwinter water warmer than my feet dull conviction blossoming to genuine desire after starting Finish For years such care for the antique chair! so smooth and dark that varnish seemed like substance truer than the wood; then rocked against the radiator: carved rose on curved iron. Now the glue reminds us of the grain. Egg wash, seeds;  perfume and a pat to the hair; “30” at the bottom of the typescript; plate licked;  stamp licked;  file closed;  tape rewinding;  door locked;  hands at sides;  recorded scores; a dream of the lost alive

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