Mary Oliver at the Wellfleet Dunkin’
The glazed, wrinkled tops
of new-made crullers
gleam in their silvered basin.
I don’t want to think
of the soft hang of our bodies,
but of their beauty, their light indifference,
a parliament of wreathed air,
gnarled thumbs and forefingers
turned in acceptance.
We do not
have to invite need, nor introduce
ourselves to age like a seed’s green joy.
It is enough to admire craft,
the curve of attention falling
sweet as syrup into a great pond:
Dark waters do not always signal
death under a fine layer of skin.
I take one between my lips
swallow light. I know
not to linger.
Jared Beloff is a teacher and poet who lives in Queens, NY with his wife and two daughters. You can find his work in Contrary Magazine, Rise Up Review, Barren Magazine, Bending Genres, The Shore and elsewhere. He is the editor of the Marvel inspired poetry anthology, Marvelous Verses. His work was nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize for 2021.
© Variant Literature Inc 2021