Poems by William Matthews | Poetree

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Outer Space

Outer Space

If you could turn the moon

on a lathe, you would

because you are curious.

And that would explain

why the moon slivers,

but explain it stupidly

by not taking care

to ask how the moon rounds.

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William Matthews

Four Poems About Jamaica

Four Poems About Jamaica

1. Montego Bay, 10:00 P.M.

A chandelier, a tiara,

a hive of lights. A cruise ship

is leaving, the S.S. Jesus

again, the only ship that comes

here. If I watch the ship go

long enough I become the ship.

So rather than leave I look away --

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William Matthews

On A Diet

On A Diet

Eat all you want

but don’t swallow it.

—Archie Moore

The ruth of soups and balm of sauces

I renounce equally. What Rorschach saw

in ink I find in the buttery frizzle

in the sauté pan, and I leave it behind,

and the sweet peat-smoke tang of bananas,

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William Matthews

Morningside Heights, July

Morningside Heights, July

Haze. Three student violists boarding

a bus. A clatter of jackhammers.

Granular light. A film of sweat for primer

and the heat for a coat of paint.

A man and a woman on a bench:

she tells him he must be psychic,

for how else could he sense, even before she knew,

that she’d need to call it off? A bicyclist

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William Matthews

Talking To The Moon

Talking To The Moon

A defeated politician is in circulation

again, as we say of coins,

and his mouth is full of words.

His words have all been handled smooth.

They'd shrink, like lozenges, except

some sweat from everyone who's had them

is on them. He could be you,

why don't you support him?

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William Matthews

Onions

Onions

How easily happiness begins by

dicing onions. A lump of sweet butter

slithers and swirls across the floor

of the sauté pan, especially if its

errant path crosses a tiny slick

of olive oil. Then a tumble of onions.

This could mean soup or risotto

or chutney (from the Sanskrit

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William Matthews

A Happy Childhood

A Happy Childhood

My mother stands at the screen door, laughing.

“Out out damn Spot,” she commands our silly dog.

I wonder what this means. I rise into adult air

like a hollyhock, I’m so proud to be loved

like this. The air is tight to my nervous body.

I use new clothes and shoes the way the corn-studded

soil around here uses nitrogen, giddily.

Ohio, Ohio, Ohio. Often I sing

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William Matthews

Snow Falling Through Fog

Snow Falling Through Fog

This is how we used to imagine

the ocean floor: a steady snow of dead

diatoms and forams drifting

higher in the sunken plains, a soggy

dust on the climbing underwater

peaks. But such a weather

would build a parched earth,

a ball of salt. Down the last mountains

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William Matthews

A Life Of Crime

A Life Of Crime

Frail friends, I love you all!

Maybe that's the trouble,

storm in the eye of a storm.

Everyone wants too much.

Instead we gratefully accept

some stylized despair:

suitcoats left hanging

on folding chairs, snow falling

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William Matthews

A Walk

A Walk

February on the narrow beach, 3

o

A.M. I set out south. Cape Cod Light

on its crumbling cliff above me turns

its wand of light so steadily

it might be tolling a half-life,

it might be the second-hand

of a schoolroom clock,

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William Matthews

Opening Her Jewel Box

Opening Her Jewel Box

She discovers a finish

of dust on the felt drawer-bottoms,

despite the long time

it's been since she opened it

or wore lipstick. Sometimes she's asked

"What are you thinking of?"

and she's so startled she says

"Nothing," rather than describe

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William Matthews

Bedtime

Bedtime

Usually I stay up late, my time

alone. Tonight at 9

o I can tell

I'm only awake long enough

to put my sons to bed.

When I start to turn off lights

the boys are puzzled. They're used

to entering sleep by ceding to me

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William Matthews