Sample Poems by Suzanne Roberts
Hesitation
In memory's opaque window, the pause
at the front gate of the hotel will last
long. Because you remember--the break
in rain, and the mist rising and falling
like the faithful. And the mouths
of stars hidden by a tent of clouds.
He leads you by the hand--you note
the slender fingers, that difference.
A taxi sounds the horn, flashes headlights--
A street dog wanders past, the click of claws
on wet pavement--you think of your own dog,
her place at the hearth, far off, another country.
You imagine the landscape of shame,
the unfolding hills divorced from light.
Dawn
Managua, Nicaragua
Yesterday, I woke alone in my own bed.
Today, another country, and dawn casts
its light on pink stucco walls, a painting--
a brightly colored fishing village--
an unlocked safe, a stained flowered bedspread
crumpled on the floor. The broken shutters
rattle a wooden echo against the window.
Through the slats, electrical wires cut
the balmy sky in halves. Palm fronds hesitate
against uneven wind, a slate-gray sky.
Yellow-uniformed guards still sit watch
on the streets' corners. Rain follows the light,
scatters water on the red tile floor. I turn
toward the back of a man I do not know.
Scuba Diving
Little Corn Island, Nicaragua
The sharp coral and soft green
seaweed undulate in waves
with the ocean's swell.
An eagle ray scoots along the sand,
flapping her spotted black wings.
A school of sluggish nurse sharks
brood through underwater gardens.
We drift through the world
of bent light, of ebb and flow,
of bubbles and of breath,
never so aware of mouths
and lungs and hearts.
When we emerge--break
the surface of blue silence--
we notice a different sort of sky.
Passing Through
A sudden rain breaks the heat,
relieves the air of its burden.
I look past you to my reflection,
rain soaked, distorted in the car
window, a starfish under water,
the sun passing through
a mottled sky. I can't help
but stare at the crenulated image
as if I were already not here.
Shameless
He knocks at the door, looks
through the window. You have no choice
but to answer. He explains that the end
of false religion is near. You'd shut the door
without an excuse, but he's tall and blond,
a thinner version, you think, of Barbie's Ken.
So you tilt your head with feigned interest and say,
Really? Tell me more. A harlot, he answers,
sits on the back of a beast. And?
The beast has seven heads and ten horns.
You say the woman rides him?
Yes, and exerts influence over the kings
of the earth. What's she wearing?
She's dressed in purple, wears a crown
of rubies, burns incense. She's exceedingly wealthy.
And shameless? He loosens his necktie,
puts down his briefcase, gestures with long fingers.
But the beast will make her devastated
and naked. He will eat her fleshy parts.
And she will burn with fire.
Yes, and he will carry out God's thoughts.
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