My Anger Will Ebb

After all

my friend, alone in her house

a half mile from the boat

aflame as if in a Greek tragedy

is alive & well

reunited today with daughters & spouse.

Far away & helpless

as she was close by & helpless

I waited, she waited, so many waited

sure he would be caught

sure she would survive unmarked —
we are all marked.

A boat in a Greek tragedy would be a trireme

three ranks of oars

one above the next above the next

a beak for a prow

better to ram, to pierce

the enemy boat.

The dogs, locked inside all day

burst out of doors in frenzied relief

like the children denied playgrounds

the workers denied work.

Meanwhile I walked up Soquel

jaywalked across Ocean

climbed the Broadway hill

to watch the hybrid rose — orange, yellow, & pink —

bloom careless & sprawling

above the chainlink fence.

Anger is sullen, is pouting

is dismay at the world refusing to cooperate

is armies of men with guns

is war, is death

is a 19-year-old killing his life

with killing — ablaze in a boat.

My grandchild studied my knee to find marks

where the ladybug might have bitten.

In the shop a woman
held a paper towel for the slug
to ooze up & onto —

carried it outdoors.

I didn’t want to come here today.

I wanted to stew in anger caused by too long fear.

Yet the sun shines, the bus runs.

I could sit @ the Scotts Valley Peet's

knowing we would read

we would write

fast words on slow paper

we strangers & not quite friends.

— 20 April 2013