THREE POEMS BY FRANK STANFORD
The Nocturnal Ships of the Past
There was always a great darkness
moving out
like a forest of arrows
So many ships in the past
their bows bearing women
as stalks bear eyes
The burning ships
that drove their bowsprits
between the thighs of dreams
With my ear to the ground
I hear the black prows coming
plowing the night
into water
and the wind comes up
and I smell the sour wood
leaving a wake I want to be
left alone with
Night after night
like a sleeping knife that runs deep
through the belly
the tomb ships come
Linger
The moon wanders through my barn
Like a widow heading for the country seat
It’s not dark here yet
I’m just waiting for the bow hunters
So I can run them off
They put our licks on my land
Every summer
When it gets cool the animals are tame
I’ve fallen asleep
In the trees before
I dreamed someone’s horse
Had wandered out on the football field
To graze
And I was showing children through a museum
The bow hunters make their boys
Pull the deer’s tongue out bare-handed
At dusk when I hear an arrow
Coming through my field like a bird
I wonder what men have learned
From feathers
The animals wade the creek
And eat blackberries
The wind blows through the trees
Like a woman on a raft.
Sun Go Down
I spent many afternoons
On the shore
Looking at my boat
Especially in the fall
I breathed on my cold hands
And watched the clouds
Mosey over
Like blind men
Picking apples
You have the feeling
The past
Is like a woman
Who ran off
With everything
But your belongings
There were never friends
When the weather was bad
Just visitors and books
Sometimes strange birds
Flying south
But nothing stolen
The water lied through its teeth
Like a draft
That seeps in at night
Making you sick
When you go to bed
With wet hair
I can’t remember
What afternoon it was
When those men showed up
Other boats
Landed in our cove
The crawdads
Under the rocks
Told each other
To keep quiet
One of them wiped his nose
“Step back boy
A dead man here”
*All from The Light the Dead See, University of Arkansas Press, 1991.
42milespress.com 