Poetry by Geof Hewitt
From Only What's Imagined
In my movie the boat goes under
And he alone survives the night in the cold ocean,
Swimming he hopes in a shoreward direction.
Daylight and he's still afloat, pawing the water
And doesn't yet know he's only fifty feet from shore.
He goes under for what will be the last time
But only a few feet down scrapes bottom.
He's suddenly a changed man and half hops, half swims
The remaining distance, hauls himself waterlogged
Partway up the beach before collpasing into sleep.
As he dreams the tide comes in
And rolls him back to sea.
The neighborhood beagle, ignored by family,
hated by the neighbors, is a car runner,
garbage eater, chicken killer who is,
nevertheless, kind with children
and has always treated me with decency
even if he does chase my car.
Shot and wounded, rumor had him dead
but we saw him the next day,
about the time Reagan was shot.
The owners kept him on a chain for a while,
but by the time Reagan was back in the Oval Office,
Orson was back on the loose, raising hell
and none the wiser for his brush with death.
Today, a first real spring-like Sunday
he sauntered down our lane. I called him
to make friends, then as he came and got petted
I wondered would he misunderstand my attentions
and return for other goodies, my chickens,
my car, my trash?
Only What's Imagined is availible from Geof Hewitt
and the Kumquat Press, P.O. Box 51, Calais, Vermont 05648
All rights reserved. These poems may not be used or
reproduced without written permission from Geof Hewitt.