How She Had Wished It So

September 25, 2010

It’s strange the way she could magnify sight
—amplify sound—
the way a megaphone would flood the shore,
as if she was wrought from the tide’s assumption—

A mouse and meek, tired, weak,
it is Miss Megaphone we seek

Thus Beth Karmody had brought
her once imaginary hurricane—Eno—
to Cuttland Island and it had become a legendary calamity—
The storm’s mighty landfall at night,
the tides, the full moon, the game
the water played with the harbor—
it had given Earthcutt Harbor its new name—
had cut  the  tides right through the sand—

Step right up, ladies and gentlemen—
the storm that bleaches the beaches,
that left the sand so clean that
it has become a kind of homage to Prospero—

And now she’d called up that nice boy, called Frederick,
—I’m thirteen, he’s eleven—
so are they two?  taking turns to bring
an  old lady (who  just happens to have
a circus tent in her backyard) The Muffin of the Day
every morning. Trudging up from Stevo’s—
at least until Labor Day—
One, to play
the poem that follows from the wind,
so as to certify it,
the other, so that all the island kings,
can play on Penelope’s piano, Pan’s pipes.

May they all rise together,
these people who are praying for her,
may they all applaud together,

(How she had wished it so.)

May the wind that blows through
the circus tent,
may it continue and hover,
and with storms lift it higher,
Frederick, higher, a sail in
the larger breeze.

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