poem by Bill Neumire


Think of the man who has fallen
from his passenger ship late at night
into the Northern Pacific. There are parties
on each deck where opera singers croon
below an obbligato for the offish stars,
& where dancers bend the human
body into shapes like feelings—
This one: regret. This one: forgetfulness.
There’s a restaurant where you can put on
your best dress & order three dinners
because you can’t decide. There’s a pool.
In the middle of the ocean there’s a pool
& it’s like the ocean, but bleached
clean & walled off. We swim there, always.



Bill Neumire