A Poem by Doug Bolling

Just There

Summertime in field pond.

Water moccasin drowsing

under stone bridge.

Water lily parade, algae

pond scum providing
the tapestry effect.

It's 90 degrees and we swim

in half trance
memories sluicing into
present time then
sleeping.

We are actors in a film

being shot by
invisible cameras.

Beginnings ends the reels

slithering on and on.

We dive to bottom and walk

the mud floor past

turtles barely noticing.

Tough to resurface and begin

all over again.

But Joanna I say.

Did we come to this.

How do we climb out and
twist the calendar
into some sort of
deal.

Where our love,

our carefully crafted words
of a somewhat I-Thou.

Joanna saying only:

we don't know whats around

the next corner,
don't know what we;ll find
if we come here next winter

and scratch for what we

left behind,
what we lost here.

If we light a fire,

which way might
it blow.



Doug Bolling's poetry has appeared in Poetalk, Blue Unicorn, Tribeca Poetry Review, Hurricane Review, Indefinite Space, Illuminations, Iodine Poetry Journal and Convergence among others.
He has received three Pushcart Prize nominations and currently resides outside Chicago in Flossmoor, Illinois. His poetry has been both experimental and traditional.