Two Poems
Jonathan Aibel
Day Off, on the Jetty
Sharp-edged, self-
pledged, forget to order
the disordered, seawater,
rocks, air, breathe in-
divisible the suck,
the rot of seaweed,
thrown up at high tide,
the half-empty crab
fought over by gulls
grabbling, flickering under sun.
Forget to divine the sky.
Forget we all end,
cast away, desiccated,
de-greased. Eat at the fry-shack,
clams, haddock, onions golden-
brown -- they won't eat
themselves. I won't eat myself.
Tomorrow, a different case,
a nice shirt, maybe a tie.
Hospital Night
Point, point, you finger;
beacon, burn.
One hand upward
indexing the sky lashing
my lambent flare,
while right hand down
drinks life;
such a little thing, life.
salt tides refresh the fresh
white against non:
the war within my states
burns as I drift, unmusiced;
the blue and the red
I hold it all in my mouth.
So cold the river
from fingertip to shoulder
beat one, beat me, beat two
rapids into deltas
eddying into three, fly fire,
four, beat leaps
into the campfire decades cold.
Jonathan B. Aibel is a recovering software engineer who lives in Concord, MA, the traditional homelands of the Nipmuc. His poems have been published in Barrelhouse, Chautauqua, Pangyrus, Lily Poetry Review, Cider Press Review, and elsewhere. Jonathan's chapbook Echoes of Uruk was a semi-finalist for the Tupelo Press 2024 Snowbound Prize. www.jbaibelpoet.com.