STEVEN JAMES SANTRONI / 2 POEMS

lightness

times,     idle            as

a    shoreline.    times,

the   warmest    waves

coaxing    a     swim --

ribboned    come    up,

hands    clearing    the

surface;    the      eyes-

exhaled  as   lightness.

three randomly selected stanzas from
this never-ending poem

they saw themselves as pinwheels,

stuck shiny and full lunged for

each other.

oh,

   you little fumbling oblivious miracles

     you lonely shapes

       you strokes of luck-

go on, spin.

which is the illusion-

the artist

the sailing stone

the line cook untying their apron at 3am.

it seems we are only truly

free when our eyes roll into

the back of our head-

either way.