Just when you start feeling like a shadow,
Ariel dresses your wounds.
Alonso buys you a drink later–
after Miranda drives you to the bar.
(She also refuses to let you walk home.)
Adrian visits while you swab the decks,
pacing like he’s waiting for the first sight of land,
always good for a joke and a word of advice.
Antonio climbs the Most Terrifying Ladder
to sit with you in the crow’s nest;
tells you a piece of his story.
And somehow you don’t even notice–
not til The Tempest’s cleared and you’ve left the isle.
And then you ask yourself
why didn’t I say thank you?
I have always depended on the kindness of strangers:
Hecate cannot tell who’s her friend.
all in sight:
skills not hers.
After “Dreams” by Langston Hughes
Discontent is coming, frozen with snow:
when dreams go, life’s a field frozen with snow.
We know enough of hate to safely say
Earth’s headed for heat death––frozen with snow.
During these dark times, we take our solace
from company, windows frozen, with snow.
We make guardians of small evergreens
and tall globular men frozen with snow.
Without, there are yet sly demons waiting,
snaring forests and lakes frozen with snow.
Not even the vestal hearth-fire can thaw
Hecate’s still-beating heart, frozen with snow.