Jack J. Chielli
The Whim Museum, St. Croix,
February 2020
The trade winds swept through the turpentine trees
scattering my brother’s ashes across the sugar plantation
I had traveled to this Caribbean island
because while living Dominic wanted me to visit him here
and so I was
He practiced piano in the rotunda—
though the docents and grounds keepers
liked to think these were private concerts—
and he worked to raise funds to preserve the property
Hurricanes Maria and Irma changed all that
and shuttered the estate—
the dome remained covered with blue tarps
the piano ruined by rains
and the grounds held their shape despite neglect
But between the tamarind trees and stables
a hen roamed with her chicks
the roses and jasmine flavored the easterly breeze
with red and white blossoms
and on occasion a Dutch couple
would arrive expecting a tour
From the Dark Lips of the Horizon
The moon rose from the dark lips of the horizon,
its aperture widened over the sleepless fish
The gray light blinked on the waves
and silver shells spilled over
the under currents
Follow the path
of light out to sea; or remain
in the shallow gullies of the heart
I stood listening to the waves
spit sea at the stars
Jack J. Chielli is a writer living in Frederick, Maryland. He has an MA in poetry from Wilkes University and a BA in Writing from Roger Williams University. He has been writing since he was very young, in fact wanting to write is his first memory. He was editor of his collegiate literary magazine, Aldebaran. He also was a journalist for many years before working in politics and is currently in higher education, where he is a vice president of enrollment management, marketing and communications. His poetry is forthcoming or has been published in Plainsongs; the anthology project Keystone: Contemporary Poets on Pennsylvania; Martin Lake Journal; Schuylkill Valley Journal; EcoTheo; and Coal Hill Review.