Two Poems by Ace Boggess

by Ace Boggess

House Painters

When they stroke their cautious marks

over awning & eaves, gutters & trim,

do they doubt themselves

as if sketching their mothers’ eyes

on canvas? Must be

yearning for appreciation

of their work as still life, landscape,

nude reclining, when they have

door, wall, window frame, &

the way light plays against these things.

Descent

A sinking patch of earth, a grave

that needs to be filled in—

to think that after all he gave

the dead man must descend again.

The ground is like a soft new love:

exposed, an open invitation,

less it hasn’t than will have;

in love’s wake, or death’s, a mild depression.