Sanctuary

Sanctuary

Cathedral of trees
barely leafed

warming in spring sunshine

Narrow aisles

along the bluff

views of water,

forget-me-nots,

sky unmarred by clouds

Congregation of four

unwind

the deeper they penetrate

the sanctuary

--bam

Windward Side

Windward Side

Flotsam (or jetsam

I get them confused)

washes on shore to be

assembled into sculpture

by passing artists.

--bam

Frozen Mushrooms

Like burnt monuments
they lean together
trying to maintain
their dignity
while their edges
blacken and melt
in the pale autumn sunshine

--bam

Salt

Salt II

Centurion’s salary.
Are you worth your salt?

Crystal from the sea
glitters like diamonds
in the Caribbean sun.

Magic dust to sprinkle
on supper.

Touch it with the tip
of your tongue,
memories
of clear turquoise oceans.

--bam

Flamingo

Flamingo

They wade on their stick legs
bent low to seine out tiny shrimp
the pink of their feathers
marking their success.

Cactus on the shore
in odd contrast to all the water
surrounding the island
but it’s salt,
all salt,
not water for drinking, washing, or growing.

Harsh water for a harsh
but beautiful place.

--bam

Armature

Armature
--for Ellen Kort

Over the wires,
lay on the muscle of batting,
fibers soft yet strong.
Tuck in a scrap of wishes and hopes.
Fold on a skin of resilient fabric
smooth and young or wrinkled with age.
Mold it to the form
with tiny stitches, cell to cell.
Carve her features in soft clay.
Be gentle and kind with her eyes
and don’t forget tears.
Soothe her mouth with loving words.
Open her ears for sympathy.
Style her hair with abandon;
black, brown, yellow, red or gray.
Array her in garments shot with gold,
embellish them with beads that
sparkle and bells that ring.
Cup her hands to fit a child’s cheek,
a lover’s heart and
a dear friend’s need.
Give her strong feet to travel
the needed miles and
bear what life throws her way.

Her heart’s in the hands
that made her,
in every wire and fiber,
every stitch and snip,
on the scrap of wish-paper
nestled inside,
in the clay and fabric,
beads and bells.
Spirit heart of the maker,
wishful hands
quickened with
hope and joy.
The beautiful hands
that fashioned her,
bathed in laughter
and tears,
put her heart
into every moment of
creation.

--bam

Creole Wrasse

Creole Wrasse

Like an endless blue ribbon
they stream across the reef
dipping to the coral,
mouths agape,
inviting tiny yellow cleaners
to nip away parasites.

--bam

Autumn Teatime

Autumn Teatime

Taps of icy drops on the pane,
horizontal rain beating the bricks,
the blustery wind takes over raking,
mounding drifts of colored leaves
in the lee of the pines,
curlicues of orange spice tea
tickle my nose as I warm
my hands on the mug.

--bam

Arrow Crab

Arrow Crab

Tucked under the red sponge

there in the reef

an arrow crab

defends his turf.

His animated toothpick body

is easy to overlook,

I smile to see

his frowning face

and fuzzy, purple, boxing-glove claws.

--bam

Dwarf Lake Iris

Nestled in moss and leaf litter
they peek out
pale blue,
periwinkle,
and yellow to brighten
springtime forest walks.

--bam

Never Satisfied

Never Satisfied

Swaying in its coral nest
a pink-tipped anemone,

left behind by swarms
of small green chromis,

yearns for fins.

--bam

Private Island

Private Island

land ringed by water
or
hillock surrounded by ditches
or
moat-girdled earth

find calm amid chaos

eke your island from swirling demands

compose the anthem for your personal cay

plant your flag on salt-sprayed dune

pledge allegiance to your center of the storm

--bam

SCUBA Fantasy

SCUBA Fantasy
…from the Weekly World News

Finning along the reef
in the turquoise sea
she luxuriates in the silken
flow of salt water over her skin.

Streams of silver bubbles
mark her trail.
Red shrimp, blue parrotfish,
yellow jacks, purple crabs
play hide and seek,
alternately predator and prey.

In the distance a dark shape
grows from the abyss.
One by one fish and critters
disappear as if by magic.

Through gin-clear water she
sees the glittering red orange
snout of the giant seahorse
sipping a reef fish dinner.
Its black-pearl eye turns her way,
considering dessert.

--bam

Dance Ring

Dance Ring

Circle of limestone,
moss cushioned,
paved by decades
of laughing feet.

Limpid green
canopy
arching overhead,

Music of water,
earth and air,

Harmony of insect buzz
birdsong and
rain,

Dappled sun
strikes cold ash
to flame.

Cradle my heart
until I return.

--bam

Main Street, Bonaire

Main Street, Bonaire

Sun beats on bright
stucco,
Dutch Colonial
architecture in
Caribbean glare.

Salt air peels
paint like sunburnt
skin,
a never-ending battle.
Faded beauty
is the enemy of prosperity.

Shuffling tourists trail
down clean-swept
walks,
consider art made in Taiwan,
trinkets from China.

Coppertone-slick flesh
shining bright pink
radiates its own
heat
collected from the rays.

--bam

Poppies

Solar flares of poppies
Bouquets of opiate infernos
Burn creative fire

--bam

Stones

Stones

Stone cairn marks the

path down to the bay

layers of gray

laid one on the other

tell tales of ancient seas and

primitive swimmers.

--Barbara Malcolm

A Fish and A Wish

Once when I was walking, I came upon a man
a-setting by the roadside, cooking in a pan.

I said, “Hello, man,
what’s in your pan?”

“A fish and a wish,” said he,
sitting under a shady tree.

I asked, “What kind of fish is that?”
He replied, “A channel cat.”

“What sort of wish?” I begged.
“Why don’t you guess?” he egged.

“Do you wish for a car?”
“No, I don’t live very far.”

“Let’s see…for a lot of cash?”
“No, and don’t be brash.”

“It’s a very simple wish, you see,
I wish for company.”

So we set
And we 'et,
That man under the tree
And me.

--Barbara Malcolm

(I was kind of channeling Dr. Seuss when I wrote this one. Sorry.)

The Music of the Reef

The Music of the Reef

I thought it would be quiet lying there on the sand,
two hundred yards offshore and ninety feet
underwater. I assumed it would be silent except for
the rhythm of my breath. Once I settled
motionless on the bottom, the mechanical click-
whoosh-gurgle of my breathing receded and the
music of the reef swelled. Around me I heard the
click-whirr of my dive partner’s camera, the pop of
tiny shrimp claws snapping to subdue prey, the
crunch of parrotfish eating coral. A rhythmic chiming
captured my attention. Nothing I saw moved in
concert with it. One glance at the surface gave me
the answer. The music matched the march of the
ocean swells. All that distance from shore, so far
beneath the surface, I heard the enchanting melody
made by broken pieces of coral rolling in the surf--
ocean chimes tinkling like glass in the breeze.

Faulty Thinking

Faulty Thinking

The fault line…
where the Earth cracks,
where continental plates
grind, rub, slip, climb, and sink,
mountains and canyons are born,
insurmountable barriers are created,
chasms plunge beyond imagining.

The fault line…
blame is placed, fingers point
teeth grind, hands clench,
whose fault is it?
Yours? Do you admit it?
Where do you draw the line
at someone else’s faults?

Don’t draw it too deep,
you might
fall
in.

--Barbara Malcolm