Steve Berman Potery

Martha’s Vineyard Sketches – Summer 2008

Walking out along the Breakwater

Great chunks of granite 

    some pink and some pale green

        each flecked with a thousand mica chips

            that shimmer in the morning light

                like tiny suns

        Breakfast on the Deck

Finches and chickadees

    come to the feeder

        dip in the birdbath

            My mother, turning ninety-three,

                savors her coffee, eyes them with delight

        

Doctor’s Visit

My mom, sweet now that she’s lost her memory,

    is flirting with the doctor. 

        “Where’d you grow up, Ruth?” he asks innocently.

            “I never did!” she quips, and grins at her own wit.

                I to myself “Yes, that’s at least half true.”

        

Catching the moment

Rushing to retrieve my camera

          I lose my chance to spend time

                        with the butterfly

        

Morningsong

Waking once again to the mad chatter

            of crows as they proclaim themselves

                 lords of the island

        Artisan’s Market

Here at the Grange in Tisbury

            potters and jewelers, poets and painters

                        their artwork fills the hall

            with exhuberant colors

                                     a garden overflowing with ripe fruit

            

Walking along the Lagoon – A Song

Slipper shells and dried out crab claws

            blue mussels and the smell of kelp

                        bring back the delight of childhood

             just like it had never left

            Lambert’s Cove at Sunset

Darkening water, fading orange light,

            sand grains rough between my toes

                        the quiet ocean slapping at the shore

                                    I’m at peace with the wave that’s sweeping

                       shoreward to lift me away

           

Tuesday nights at Che’s Coffeshop 

When Bella plays guitar and sings

            her Samba Chocolate

                        Brazilian currents

                                    warm our northern ocean

           

Aquinnah  

The little shop still sells the pots she makes

    from the red and yellow clay of the Aquinnah cliffs

        Gladys Widdiss, Wampanoag elder

            One fall I picked wild cranberries with her

                    somewhere along the road to Lobsterville

   

Menemsha Pond

Strong tidal current where the pond flows seaward

    past granite jetties into Vineyard Sound

        Across the channel cormorants stand motionless 

            like small black scarecrows

                wings held out to dry

Table Tipping

They sit there – my mother, my sister

        fingertips light on the rickety table    

            they’re getting the news from the dead

                Will I be back with you soon? my mother asks 

                    hopefully. A pause, and a single tap – No!

September Dawn on Lagoon Pond

Rising early I walk out along the bluff    

    the beach, the trees, the houses,  all are bathed 

        in golden light – a glimpse of heaven just across

             the water. Too soon the glow gives way

                to the cool grey morning air 

           

Five Ghosts

                               The Assistent Librarian, Passed over for Promotion

                                                Three weeks after the suicide 

                                                he visits me, a golden skeleton 

                                                his clockwork heart still ticking.

                                                Reaching behind his ribs, he takes it out

                                               to demonstrate its platinum perfection

                                    Great-Grandmother Caroline

                                                 She stands before me

                                                 light streaming from her face  

                                                Stephen, I’m your guardian! she says,

                                                it’s penance for mistreating your grandfather

                                                when he was just a child. 

                                    Uncle Joe Hurwitz

                                                But Uncle Joe, I say,

                                                you’ve been dead for forty years!

                                                (In fact it was only thirty) No he says,

                                                eyes twinkling the way they did in life

                                                I’ve just been hiding, just been hiding out.

                                    Shloshim  ( After 30 Days)

                                               “Look Stephen, I’m not dead,

                                                Show me the body!”

                                                “But dad, you asked to be cremated

                                                We honored your wishes.”

                                                Grumbling, the old lawyer moves on by 

                                    Uncle Hal Harlow

                                                A whisper in my ear – my uncle’s voice

                                                Oh Stephen, all my life I only wanted

                                                to live on air, and now I am the air 

                                                and the sea mist that floats along the shore

                                                and it’s so wonderful,  so very wonderful!

                                               

Mortal Remains

               My dad – never a lightweight in his field

                        of legal history – so why am I 

                                   now surprised to feel 

                how heavy this bag of ashes

               Impulsively I kiss the box from Greenwood Cemetary

                        remembering how it felt to kiss his face

                                    only last fall

               The label on the box says NOTICE

                         always a good idea

                                  next it says TEMPORARY CONTAINER

                                            as if the ashes inside

                                                       hadn’t made that clear already