Drank so many martinis they forgot
to serve the casserole.
He fell into the oval pool.
She told the children not to look.
He lost his hat, a second stanza.
They found themselves in puzzled love
at last. She woke up in a distant cornfield.
He woke up in the empty pool.
They danced on the low-hanging balcony.
She sang songs from a former country
as he fell asleep beside the dying fire.
They woke to watch the blinking satellite.
Margaret Young’s poetry collections are Willow From the Willow (Cleveland State University Poetry Center, 2002) and Almond Town (Bright Hill Press, 2011), plus a chapbook Blight Summer just out from Finishing Line Press. She is translating the work of Sergio Inestrosa (Mexico) and Débora Benacot (Argentina). Young is on the faculty of the Global Center for Advanced Studies and Endicott College in Beverly, Massachusetts.