Yuri (Riq) Hospodar

 

Watching Jack Powers Conduct the Ocean 
 -Martha's Vineyard

Jack fixes his eye
on the waves we'd walked by
and climbs
the winter-empty lifeguard stand.
His arms reach out.
Clear air falls from the grey sky
and sets his trenchcoat alive.
We clutch shells or paper cups
filled with cold tea
as the steady waves are given rhythm.

Like any good conductor
he draws from the noise
and makes it music,
makes a shape from something there.
Form comes to what seemed mere nature,
like maybe a lost Mahler symphony,
or Powers' First performed at last -
we'd heard the score read at times before.

As we shiver to the car he shrugs, smiles.
"The great thing is, it does it regardless -
I mean, it didn't matter if I was there or not."

And the ocean hisses differently
to me through the windows.