Hometown for an Hour: Poems

Alton Bay Postcard

Alton Bay Postcard to Becky Lillian Sleep fills the houses like a gas. Whatever flies were caught inside are curled up on windowsills, filled with a small, dry sleep. Real estate calendars yellow on August. The bay’s snapshot-blue is just as deep as when we stopped here thirty years ago— do you remember? The Winnebago Cabins beckon. Perhaps we could keep house here a few weeks next summer. That local girl we met has left to marry now, I’m sure, but brings her children back. She’d know they’re more like tourists now, who come here but forget that, since in her heart the bay’s still hers. Although we were just passing through, the barbershop quartet sang songs I knew and I loved her. This was my hometown for an hour. 1 You are reading copyrighted material published by Ohio University Press/Swallow Press. Unauthorized posting, copying, or distributing of this work except as permitted under U.S. copyright law is illegal and injures the author and publisher. ...