AT NIGHT

Three boats
searching for port
skipped the iced-in shores
near home
waiting past ice floes,
distant light points
bobbing at the dark horizon.

Three fishermen
at the old wharf
moving their nets apiece
in the closing ice hole
Hands bare and wet
lake water fresh
with no salt to sting
winter’s skin cracks.

Three fish
in the cold wet
watching boats
nets
wharfs
ice
passing silently
under all
as night continued
its fall.


PUPPY LOVE

Oh baby,  Puppy love,
It’s like spring time
For rednecks
Spring time
In the midst of the monsoon
Spring time when all cicadas are screaming
their legs off
At full bore
And there’s a lightning storm
And thunder
And Alex Rodriguez just hit a GRAND SLAM HOME RUN
In the bottom of the 9th 2 outs 2 strikes
And the Yankees win the WORLD SERIES 5 to 2
That’s like the way it is
Oh yea, and there’s some passion
and mooning and spooning and holding hands
and that kind of mushy stuff too
But that’s mostly for girls cause
For guys they’re thinking home run
derby firecrackers
and red hot tamales.


© Alan S. Kleiman

Bio: Alan S. Kleiman's poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in The Criterion, The Bicycle Review, Pyrta, and The Montucky Review. He lives in New York City and works as an attorney. When not practicing law or writing, he spends as much time as he can in the open air.