House For Sale
Suffer these ruins of what never was.
This house once served its hosts
giving its best room, its two good chairs
The walls gave back a rich response
from the cedar growing once
and held in the warmth, held up the roof.
in its wooden trim,
this house breathed in
the gulf's salt-air for years.
It listened to each bird-complaint in the eaves.
Now behind each window-dark face,
this house waits like a body waits,
to be claimed. Oh, I feel old,
here in these childless rooms.
How well each post slips into its beam,
the floors broomstung, the tongue
obedient in its groove.
Outside, the night grows
A young scrub oak
against the clapboard like a hand.
Adam and Eve in Florida
The evening blinks with lightning bugs and rain.
The fennel softens on its stem
and crowns of cabbage palm and hickory
obscure the milky moon. Humidity,
like glue, confines us to our chairs. We sweat
and rock. The heat: a language that the whippoorwill
repeats, repeats. The garden smells of mold,
and air plants look like demons in the oaks.
The wicker gives and takes and creaks while frogs
ignite their throats tonguing jeweled insects
off the tusks of fronds, and isolated
lamps of houses burn behind their curtained
rooms. In this momentary equipoise,
in air too still to stir, we watch the poison
glisten in the snakes.
Ann Wood- Fuller is a Lebanese-American poet. She studied at the University of Florida earning degrees in English Literature and did her post graduate work in Creative Writing. Her work has appeared in many literary magazines and peered journals including The Yalobusha Review and The Florida Review as well as the premier issue of Ancient City Anthology, a book of writings about Florida. Recently at the Southern Writers/Southern Writing conference at Oxford, Mississippi, she was invited to read her work and received an award for outstanding technical merit for her poem, "The Last Resort." Ann lives in a home she built on 7 isolated acres in the old Florida woods.