After the future
stories will be told
which, even if lies,
will resemble a life.
Stories — the same old one:
a man has nothing yet
in the sheath of his body
a yearning, a bountiful
absence lingers that
for awhile, reminds him
of the sunlit sweat
from which he rises
after sex, outstretched
heron shape in flight,
the lake below, the woman
placid, blue, their names
forgotten, the sound
perpetually white
of wings against
the sky.
A resident of the dank and moldy primal forests of West Tisbury for 32 years, Lee H. McCormack has been occasionally reported as actually being seen alive, usually from a great distance through high octane vision magnifying devices.
The Martha’s Vineyard Times welcomes contributions to Poet’s Corner. Dan Waters, former poet laureate of West Tisbury, will select poems to be published here. Submissions should be directed to dan@indianhillpress.com.