The Ceiling Slathers
When you go to Central Park
lie down on some lawn or bench
awhile. Check out the ceiling, all
the cherubs of the Renaissance
surpassed, not two-dimentional
but four, Michelangelo
himself just a little bit
jealous.
A Sandy Beach
It goes like wind and flows
like
time . . .
Stand
or lie on any over-trafficked strand
or vacant one
and note the patterned sand
shifting while staying
as unplanned as planned.
The Moon, Still
The moon, still, tries to lure the salt-spiked sea
for a quick unnoticed kiss if not a bath
but the ocean's heavy and the face is far
so gives up in awhile--but tries again
as I with you who, like the ocean, rise
each day to challenge an apparent lowness
and, failing, spread a wetness o'er the earth:
The side effect of such relentless love
is life--not everywhere, but just about.
And when we kissed, that one time, after tears,
we tasted in the moistness of soft lips
the soupcon of a saltiness, and shone.
James B. Nicola's poems have appeared in such publications as The Antioch, Southwest, and Atlanta Review and several KOAH anthologies. His collections are Manhattan Plaza (2014), Stage to Page (2016), Wind in the Cave (2017), and Out of Nothing: Poems of Art and Artists (2018). He has received a Dana Literary Award, two Willow Review awards, four Pushcart Prize nominations, and a People's Choice award from Storyteller Magazine. His nonfiction book, Playing the Audience, won a Choice Magazine award.
