Best Poem of S. J. Fulton

Sonnet To J.L. #1
I wonder why your ships are painted green
While ours are gray? I’ve heard some sailors say
That swift ships, camouflaged, can move unseen
Against the sea. Strange, though, it’s always cold gray
Winter’s sea that we anticipate.
I think perhaps you’re wiser with your green.
It is as though you mean to imitate . . .
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Drought Deterred
Staten Island summer.
Lawns dry and bleached as sand,
leaves withering like wrinkled old men
while we sog and sweat
in air thick as a bathtub sponge.
How can so much water hang in the hot sky
for so many weeks,
sculpting endless clouds
that tease with sly promise,
then thumb their noses
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