Circe

*For day 14 of the PAD challenge. Prompt: an "island" poem.

a pyramid of oranges at
Ben Nat, opposite the island
comprised of four benches,

stopping off place for the
weary shoppers watching
passers-by weighing fruit,

purchasing chickens and crubeens,
grappling with bags as the
cigar-man slowly rolls his leaves

oh, for an island of
melodies to sing her
into a drowsing sleep

as the sun set beyond palm
trees, into an ocean of unreal
blue, stolen from the paintbox,

Crayola's best color, the
sapphire-blue sea, so
far from the Bronx River

on a sandy shore while
the chorus sings her
to sleep, her own island,

the black loops of tape
running, automatic, this
Transland travel agency

of images sun-bleached, the
package holidays carefully
posed and composed