Two Poems
Donald Mace Williams

Unbraced

I stepped into a cold, clear morning
and thought at first there was no breeze.
To make sure, I stood still, and, ah,
the day moved toward me faintly, all
the air together, with no sound
of breath, a faceless air, not pursed
as if to kiss or swaddling me
like breezes of the long, long day
before, scarcely a breeze at all.
Surely, deprived of anything
to open to, my arms would wither,
my unbraced knees would buckle. Now
I see how stark such stillness is,
how close to death. Stir stronger, love.

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Published in Nimrod and forthcoming in Of Granddaughters and Mars (Stoney Creek Publishing, 2026)

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For a Granddaughter's Third Birthday

(back then)

I held you upside down
Where the ocean rolled in thin,
And you reached to feel the water
Cool on your skin.

Your aunt said, “Taste your finger.”
You did, then held it for me
While the little waves kept toppling
As white as could be.

The taste of seashore salt
Is full of wind and ships.
Its smell is in the air,
Its feel is on your lips.

I hope that sea-salt taste
Stays with you all your years
And never, never mingles
With the salt of tears.

- - -

Forthcoming in On Granddaughters and Mars (Stoney Creek Publishing, 2026)

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Don’s notes and bio: “Since I didn’t have many unpublished poems to choose from, I revisited some of mine that were written mostly when I was in my seventies and eighties. It struck me that they were more intimate than the world-conscious ones that have dominated my nineties. If I write anything else, I’ll see if I can get back, or part of the way back, to my former tones. (Would that be fakery? Sure, partly. Aren’t poems always partly fake?) I do appreciate Well Met's hospitality to re-runs as well as to new pieces.”

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Two Poems Donald Mace Williams

Two Poems
Donald Mace Williams