I spent the weekend in LA, drinking expensive cappuccino and eating elegant treats with potato starch utensils. LA can be so over the top, it makes Berkeley look sort of down-at-the heels provincial.
In any case, I came across this in an anthology of LA poetry:
OK, L.A., You Win
I give,
No need to ratchet up the color
in that bright spot where the sun set.
Sunset. I saw how you silhouetted
that single palm against the sky.
Your hot-pink cirrus to lavender stratus
works every time. The surge
from melon to apricot to deepest
salmon? Unnecessary.
This long day I’ve stayed
at the windows, house-sitting
in Echo Park, a hillside overlooking
a wide boulevard: morning’s
dazzle, pools of afternoon sun
the cat and I laze in, you
withdrawing the warmth
slowly. No star yet, but
I know it’s coming. Shamelessly,
you’ll hang a high white moon
bright enough
to make a life by.
Cathie Sandstrom
from Coiled Serpent
Hi Meryl! Thanks so much for posting my poem here. Poets tend to work in isolation. It’s so gratifying to see that the work touched someone. Such a treat to discover it this morning.
One tiny (tiny!) thing: the first word in the third line should be “in.” And that doesn’t alter how delighted I am that you posted it!
Cathie
Cathie Sandstrom
So glad to get your comment, Cathie. And yes, fixed the typo. I happen even to be in LA for the weekend, so perfect timing.