ANTHONY WATKINS

I SMELL THE OCEAN

in the quiet of my Tallahassee living room.
for as I like to say:
I like the ocean except for the sun,
sand, and salt water. In my old age,

I love a spring, or even a city pool,
filled with old people soaking and kids
squealing and splashing and having to be
told to not run on the wet concrete deck.

This ocean I smell is from over fifty years ago,
where two young boys played in the blue green water
and snow white sand, standing alternatively
in the knee deep water
and standing against a chest high breaker.

Doing this for hours at a time,
sun burning, and freckled all over,
so thirsty, but not wanting to get out
and cross 98 to the kitchenette where
Mama had us cold bottles of Coca Cola.

THE LAST TIME I HAD CHERRIES

This morning, I broke the seal
on the plastic bowl the cantaloupes came in,
pre-sliced from the produce market
and carefully measured out
one cup of chunks into a hand-painted white bowl,
glazed by an amateur artist from Kentucky.

I don’t remember her name,
but she carefully painted red cherries
and then green leaves and brown stems.

I have used and washed this bowl
many times, the glazing is chipped and cracked.

With a case knife,
I cut the chunks
into bite size pieces,
sitting in the light
of my kitchen
as the darkened night
waits outside for morning.

There is no irony,
there is no hidden message
in this bottle of a poem,
unless you choose to find one
here.

Anthony Watkins lives in Tallahassee, Florida with his long-suffering wife, teen-aged college student daughter, and Babymoo, their 80 lb. lapdog. Publisher of a series of literary journals since 1995, including the brand new online quarterly: Better Than The times (betterthanthetimes.com). Community Teaching Assistant at University of Pennsylvania’s Modern and Contemporary American Poetry (ModPo). He gives poetry readings and leads discussions on poetry and small press publishing at libraries, high schools and universities around the south. His poems reflect love and sadness for the south and the working people who live there.