The Ponds of Boston
Some pitted by rain like spotted mirrors, others
green and smoky as Venetian glass,
choked with weeds and hidden
in the woods; some shallow as the palm
of a hand, and clear to the bottom, bright
with koi; still others dark and turbid, stirred
from underneath; some salty to the taste
like tears, brittle surfaces on which the water lily
and the hyacinth unfold, proliferate-
(and if a church bell were to strike, they would
shatter like a pane of glass-)
Across Chandler’s Pond, the medieval
stone towers of Boston College. In a darkened
room, a student reads about the future
from the past, his life shining quietly within him
like a lamp turned low-the brief
gleam of a flashlight, the cottages
reflected in the water, afraid almost
of themselves.
Taylor Altman was born and raised on Long Island. A graduate of Stanford University and the Creative Writing Program at Boston University, she currently resides in the San Francisco Bay Area, where she works for QuestBridge, a non-profit program that connects low-income students with scholarship opportunities. Her first book, Swimming Back, was recently published by Sunnyoutside Press, and her poems are forthcoming in Salamander and Silk Road.
One Comment
Taylor Altman posted on November 20, 2012 at 5:23 AM
Hi Nola–wow, sorry I didn’t notice this comment until now. Thanks so much for your kind words. You’re right that I am currently working on another book of poems. If you’re interested in learning more about it, please let me know how I can contact you.