Three Aleutian Love Poems

Mist Maiden

The fog at Amchitka is thick and dense as cotton; It haunts you and plagues you with a strange unease, It makes you imagine what is almost forgotten The glory of women, and sunlight, and trees. I saw on that island a thing past believing; There grew a tree in a clearing in the mist.... I thought for a long while my eyes were deceiving .... And in the tree a woman, waiting to be kissed. Amchitka is barren, fit only for fighting; No such vision for a thousand miles, Yet there it was before me, lovely, inviting, The girl mother-naked, her faced wreathed in smiles. As though transfixed by a sudden clap of thunder, Two soldiers beside me stood with mouths agape, Reaching their hands out in longing and wonder To seize the apparition, prevent her escape. Before I could speak, the illusion was shattered. "Come on," said a voice, "the club closes at ten; Stop looking at that painting as though it really mattered Whether or not you see a woman again."

Moonstone

I found a moonstone lying on the beach, Rounded, opaque, yet smooth and white against The colored pebbles; even as I looked, Incoming tide surged up and over it, And what had been opaque was made translucent, What had been motionless was stirred to life. Torn from its matrix on some lonely headland, Brought from that distant shore in the Aleutians, Cut to no arbitrary shape by man But curved to natural beauty by the surf, Precious to me this semi-precious stone. It symbolizes you, never so candid, Never so luminous, never so lovely, Never so much yourself, so truly mine, As when your wide grey eyes are wet with tears, Your lips moistened by rising tides of passion.

Poem For Penelope

Guarding the weird and bear-haunted island of Kodiak, Hunched in the central wild, peril to planes, All summer long the ancient volcanic mountains, Covered with thick growth, were green to their summits. Now they are changing color, as though this autumn Brought new fire to the rock after age-long slumber; Green is turning to gold, to russet and crimson. Night drops quickly now, the flame is extinguished; None but the Kingfisher pilots patrolling at sunset Poised against turquoise sky, watchers and warners, See how the mountains burn. Penelope darling, If I could be sure of your love and hold you close to me Always like this, small and curled in my arms, There could be no night, no darkness of separation, No chill, no ice, no death, only the warmth of you, Only the grace of you, only the touch of your lips Firm and sweet under mine, only your heartbeat Next to my heart and making mightiest music.