Gondola Lift

We must cross a river, whenever possible, by ferry or lift
Roosevelt Island’s via dolce which benefits
You & me with the most coruscating skyline
That we could a stranger offer anon.

Put me in the front seat, or the back, & let me rock
Easily in wind & rain & the celestial night
Of trembling lights where air pushes still
From the floor of tourists in awe,

Manhattan Gondola, you win my heart each time I stand swaying
To the rhythm & cacophony of words in languages known
& unknown. Yet suddenly familiar, I lean left to leave his
Mobile’s POV — recording me — accidentally in peace.

© 2016 Anna Mosby Coleman

Pig in Park

 

What a wonderful thing
is a pig in park. Mon Cheri
Cochon, let’s go for a walk;
you are my dearest,
my pig in a park.

At cartwheels he’ll balk
& with an oink, yes,
remarks when the
pleasure is mine — walking
with swine in a park.

No, he’s not to eat
as indeed you can see,
but delight him with treats;
& he walks replete — my big
pig, NOT pork, in a park.

Now lightning bugs join us &
the sky falls dark. Children
break smiles as I dance
a jig & we’re happy to be
in a park with a pig.

© 2016 Anna Mosby Coleman

Cinco de Mayo

The Fifth of May
for my brother Stuart

I was not too political, as I
was counting on you to express
my heart of hope without the difficulty
of saying out loud the things
that divide. These were not

Arguments that I wanted.
Then one October Sunday dying
– 5.5 months from that fifth of May –
[Twas an agonizing Cinco de Mayo
when you prophesied your fate.] &

Your halting words tried to
sustain me although crying
from the pain of bodily betrayal –
pancreas riddled with pathology &
a liver fading faster than your sprints of

Sweet athleticism so strong &
yet they could not catch a break
to win nor hold this awful thing at bay.
Now from that May & autumn-of-loss
I find myself shouting

For justice with your own words of
force that made me shy. Your politics
of mercy now grow fierce inside me until
I wonder each day how a man
of heaven holds the earth this way.

© 2016 Anna Mosby Coleman