Poetry
Family Cinema 1
by Robert Lietz
A sliding note — asking where to enter —
and the heron — lingering —
restore them once for all — and this heron
now — studying the pond lilies —
these lovers picnicking — eyes zeroing
on the handsome show
it makes of deadwood — redefining
branches where the storm
screamed back.
We're hiking through woods love filmed
the first third of our old century.
And hiking through woods — because the river's
welcoming — here
where the footbridge washed — where
the women thrilled for lengths
of cottage afternoons
/ and these were pictured smiling — pulling
away their summer clothes
and stepping down to water — warm
and as yet waist-deep — in
their own two-toned and early Thirties swimwear —
shoulder-deep as yet / down-drawn
into currents — and cooling themselves
themselves / and calling the men
about — the dead / long
dead — returning
history.
*
So the women turn — in the films they
have of it — 1930 / '31.
And the canoe's up-end. And the men —
with all
that men could think to ask for — they
smile as men might / turning
canoes to uses
the ripples in June light
float to them.
*
We welcome this heron preening
and this light refreshing mists
/ these June-gladdened left-overs — welcome
these tongues restoring
/ retrofitting family — remembering
the flags and coastal needs
/ the lyrics bouying clouds — this
stone-grey limb
and bird enlivening the uplands —
as emotions implicate
/ as two slip on
these sleeves of imagined lives — seeing
the men in golf gear now —
cutting up for cameras — finding
so many ways to miss —
and women they mug for greeting
the same old silliness in men —
in grandfathers maybe / relaxing
into blinds — bagging
these dozens still — and these
still gliding in low water
/ paddling for their lives
among the decoys
while the sportsmen
splash.