Poems

The Loop

By Peter Halstead

Here in the ocean sun,
Palm fronds printed
On my unopened eyes,

Doves’ ululations
On the open wind
Below uncluttered skies,

How many buildings,
Corporations, fortunes
Have been made and lost,

How much passion
And attention wrung
In pursuit of just

This lethargy,
This languor sprung
From endless peace

Which the idle
Lizard, the louche
And useless breeze

Earn by stalling
On the coral wall,
Doing nothing,

Nothing at all.