this morning, the pond
looks like marble. Rose
to dove, to guava, rouge.
Only mallards pushing
holes in the glass, so
unlike the pond, deep in
trees, almost camouflaged,
startling as coming upon
your reflection in a mirror,
just there under trees and
the wooden bar and the
driftwood benches blackly
jaded with pines dripping
into it, shadows close to
my hair. What I didn't have
blinded me so I hardly saw
the small birds, blue,
pulling out of moss and
needles as if reaching into
the dark for their color.

Lyn Lifshin's new book BEFORE IT'S LIGHT (Black Sparrow) won a Paterson Prize Award. The film about her LYN LIFSHIN: NOT MADE OF GLASS is available from Women Make Movies in NYC and a reading of her poems is still available from NEW LETTERS ON AIR> Her website is www.lynlifshin.com.

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