Poetry - Issue 7 | November 2009
Two poems by MaryAnn Franta Moenck
Kefalos, Caves on the Mountainside
1.
Shadows tumble down the switchback hill
and far below to your left, a white porcelain
harmonica has been stuck squarely
into the slope above Kamari Beach: Club Med,
three long rows of blind windows
where you can sip blue from the cocktail
sea and sky, watch the colorful sails, see Turkey
make up its own silhouette at dusk,
see everything beautiful,
the mountain village at your back.
2.
Even in the village
the rich man says it’s only herbs
in the caves beyond the tethered donkey.
His house is white-washed
mud-mortared stone and straw,
grown out of the crown of the mountain.
3.
You can see right up her dark skirt
as she eases to the earthen floor
in the doorway of her hovel,
bowl of food on her lap.
She stares out at you, matter-of-factly
poor.
4.
Beyond the ancient windmill
in cave-pocked sandstone of the mountainside
a few colorful doors have been flung up.
We assume drying thyme or sage, perhaps
a shed with a hoe, shade for some chickens.
But two women and a child
step out of the tiny hollow. Dust
is their sunset veranda, and they gaze
out over the languorous bay;
watch the last splashy triangle
windsurf to shore.
About the author
MaryAnn Franta Moenck has raised dust all over the American west, on the Greek Isles, and around the Great Lakes. Most recently, MaryAnn took a swim at the beach just outside the monastic grounds at Sagatagan Lake. Clouds gathered above, along with some large, dark birds. Before long, she was swimming beneath a circling kettle of twenty seven turkey vultures. As of this writing, she is still alive. Her recent or forthcoming poems can be found in Cimarron Review, Natural Bridge, and forthcoming in Water~Stone Review.