Mark Belair

 Spines
 
Yellowed, dried-out paper
flecks from
 
old paperbacks
sprinkle my lap.
 
Bits from books
I’m rereading to discover
 
why they remade me
when I was young.
 
Done a session,
I need to brush myself off.
 
Some pages hang loose.
Front covers slip away
 
like presentational poses
outlived.
 
Yet the spines
still hold.
 
Spines binding words
that informed
 
my unfolding
experience
 
to form
my youthful beliefs.
 
Spines that, having stood fast,
seem to sanction
 
this late life engagement
with my early, slippery self.
 
Spines that, even more,
seem to insist upon
 
this reading revisitation
to make me track

the fate
of those first beliefs
 
in the life
of the spotted hands
 
that now
hold them like
 
treasures
lost and found.
 


Lake Watch
 
If you watch the calm lake water
long enough,
a fish will surface
in a place
you’re not looking.
 
You’ll notice only
a splashing sound.
 
If you watch the calm lake water
even longer,
a fish will surface
right where you are looking.
 
Though, distracted by its brilliance,
you may miss the splashing sound.
 
You may also miss--
during your long, obsessive wait--
that a dark cloud edged the sun, a damp breeze
skimmed the water, a flock of geese
sounded from the sky.
 

Belair’s poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Alabama Literary Review, Harvard Review, and Michigan Quarterly Review. Author of seven collections of poems, his most recent books are two works of fiction: Stonehaven (Turning Point, 2020) and its sequel, Edgewood (Turning Point, 2022). Belair has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize multiple times, as well as for a Best of the Net Award. Please visit www.markbelair.com.