Hurricane Lodge

If this was my book, it would be shame­less com­merce, but since it is a book of new and col­lected poems by  my good friend and men­tor Geof Hewitt’, you should take seri­ously my direc­tion that you gotta get it and soon.

The Per­fect Heart

by Geof Hewitt

Scour­ing the beach for stones tum­bled smooth,
He also looks for those in the shape of a Valen­tine.
So many tri­an­gles! But most with­out the divot up top
And rounded shoul­ders fun­nel­ing down to a point,
The per­fect heart.

He gath­ers all poten­tial runners-up,
Maybe twenty or thirty that in a pinch could pass
For love tokens. But under­neath seas’ clut­ter
The per­fect heart awaits uncov­er­ing,
Another tide, another sea­son, another year.

He shares the take with his wife, who spies the least likely,
Dam­aged and cock­eyed like a child abused by birth,
A rough approx­i­ma­tion of what one might select,
Pro­claim­ing it the one she thinks will pass.

Who can fore­cast the choice of one with whom
One has spent more than half a life­time,
Who can know another’s stan­dards for the per­fect heart?