Point Pleasant
1.
Three
hours on the parkway, trapped in a jam,
we
sat in the back seat playing cards
while
our parents fought up front.
It
didn’t matter, the rush of salt
air
dissolved their tongues’ swords
and
out of the blue we were there.
The
black
in
its brackish nest, treacherous enough
for
any kid our age. We couldn’t escape
its
hooded lurch nor could our signatures etched in sand.
Ironically,
that shoreline kept us safe
until
the sun waned in the waning day.
2.
And
only yesterday as the day waned too
I
glanced at a picture of you
riding
a blowzy wave.
As
if I were the one who’s hollowed out.
As
if I were the martyr in your grave,
I
took a razor and grazed mundane ground.
A funeral
procession glided past the window.
I
saw familiar faces. It had nothing to do with you.
Jennifer Juneau’s work has been published in several
journals including American Poetry Journal, Cimarron Review,