By Susan Mello
(for Mark & Jodie Haselkorn)
The flames were teal blue
with pale orange crowns. On the radio,
Garth Brooks was crooning a country/
western tune. Jodie let the rack of lamb
cook in its juices, sat back for a while,
sipping a deep red wine--a burgundy
or merlot--something dark and bright
at once. El, too, allowed the strings
to go slack. It was good to see her ease
her legs up, to watch her open the top button
at her throat. How good to see the music
enter her, to sense the rich aromas
dreaming into her blood.
Even Mark had settled back now,
letting the sweet pungency calm him:
such a fine host, a brother to admire
and love . . .More orange
in the dancing flames! the blue ghosts
holding to center. In that moment,
the future unfolded its petals of ice and fire.
Young love! sang the Judds, True love!
and the fire shot up: a small fountain
of blue and orange flames.