Lyn Lifshin, three poems


ALMA, HER EYES SHINY COAL

ebony, her hair

glistening against

a pink bunting.

She is grinning,

looks ready for

adventure. Some

where else, birds

are coming back,

somebody puts

on green. In

Guatemala City

morning mist

burns off over the

hills in the distance.

Outside a window,

someone hawking

flutes and neck-

laces, carpets and

bags of nuts. The

wind is full of

marimbas and

lilies. She is the

music those waiting

to hold her go over

in their heads, the

lily they have waited

for their lives to

be the vase she

can bloom in

SOUL SONG FOR ALMA KARMINA

not a bluesy blues

but rose colored,

crimson. A song

of coming to you.