by Stephen Page
We are house-sitting for friends,
Sleeping in their king-sized bed.
I wake and sip coffee from a can,
Then microwave a pepperoni calzone.
Several laughing and drinking people arrive in the kitchen,
My wife commands me to respect the calzone.
I go to my friend’s study and grab a bag of chips,
And a box with a veggie pizza.
The window! The dawn is gray-cloud covered,
And the sea is gray as an Arabian horse.
An Iranian woman I recognize from the war
Is sitting naked on a fold-out chair.
She beckons me with her eyes and one finger,
Then lifts a transparent medical mask,
to veil her mouth and nose. I drink a cup
of buttons, feeling each fastener slide down my throat.
Stephen Page is part Native American. He was born in Detroit. He holds degrees from Palomar College, Columbia University, and Bennington College. He wears a mask and socially distances whenever he ventures outside in public. He loves his wife, spontaneous road trips, long walks through woodlands, nature, solitude, peace, meditating, and making noise with his electric bass.
Pieces Inspired by this Image
'A million suns'
'Shillings and Smiles'