Beautiful bad behavior codified in stone.
Wrong on the face of it. Wrong up the arms.
But that was the Renaissance. Now, after all
those years the director wants marble to soften,
travertine hold back the wood, fine lighting.
She'd already said no, said she'd rather go solid
lumber on a river bank than that.
Still he wants his way, the past slowed down
by installments and sponsored by a pink detergent.
Wants time to prepare, during a commercial,
to hear him say to leaves on finger tips, wait,
I didn't mean it. Let me explain.
And the road they ran from goes suddenly one lane,
then unpaved, finally ending in a cow path,
in a fallow field going nowhere. Kiss. Then credits.

           Allan Peterson


Between the momentary twins of thunder and coffee grinder
she can't sleep
and does a little more mattress diving to stay down
moving and returning to the same spot like a chiton
leaving slight impressions
of her hips and shoulders  stretching to sunrise
with her fingers and heels

I am removing an earwig from the sink

While I wonder how the curious cannot hold on
the girl who is a grandmother ten years walks naked
with a toothbrush gathering her clothes
I have learned oak leaves and the barge harbors of magnolia
hold butterflies hiding from showers
I am sure these same sways make apples dizzy

For these things I expect no further explanations
salt kisses  sneezing in threes

           Allan Peterson

ALLAN PETERSON's recent publications include: (print) Marlboro Review, Rhino, Pleiades, Bellingham Review, Iron Horse Review (on-line) poetscanvas, Montserrat Review. Work forthcoming in: Fine Madness; Notre Dame Review; 2Riverview, and the Black Bear ReviewHis chapbooks include "Small Charities," Panhandler Press; "Stars On A Wire," Parallel Editions.  His awards are: Florida Arts Council Fellowship in Poetry; NEA Fellowship in Poetry. Allan Peterson is a visual artist and chair of the Visual Arts Department at Pensacola Junior College, Florida.