Two Poems
by Frederick Pollack
The Best Light
Both children call. The boy lists triumphs they don’t understand but which gradually, he says, will make money. The girl reports at length but not about what they hear in her voice and see on the screen. When the calls are done (at least they call!) they’re discussed in the same style, putting the best light on what continues dark. Now she, the more mobile, makes a late breakfast (their meal), meanwhile prioritizing chores, other calls, and him. The room fills up with smells of eggs and dishes; she opens the window slightly. The welcome air is chill and damp and redolent of the past, though less of gifts than promises.
Outside
Sometimes I identify with the strangest things. They’re tearing up the street outside the house. Not potholes, and not sewer-work – not deep enough, but deep enough to reveal the somehow disturbing grey-black stuff ranging in size from dust to rocks, above it simple stones, and near the surface surprisingly bright sand that was once soil; I wonder what grew here. Of course you can’t ask what they’re doing, even when they’re just standing around, and they often, perhaps falsely, seem to be standing around. I hope they finish soon, and fill that hole with whatever, so that cars, including mine, may again course over asphalt.
Author of two book-length narrative poems, THE ADVENTURE and HAPPINESS (Story Line Press; the former reissued 2022 by Red Hen Press), and three collections, A POVERTY OF WORDS (Prolific Press, 2015), LANDSCAPE WITH MUTANT (Smokestack Books, UK, 2018), and THE BEAUTIFUL LOSSES (Better Than Starbucks Books, forthcoming 2023). Many other poems in print and online journals.