Niagara by Erika Meitner

White towels folded into swans
‡‡with their heads touching —
‡‡‡their hearted bodies trail

the floral bedspread: polyester,
‡‡used over and over again.
‡‡‡The bed itself casts a shadow

on the desolate paneling,
‡‡O bed. O motel. O girl
‡‡‡in white pants — you are voluminous

and shine like the yellow doors
‡‡on rows of identical love shacks
‡‡‡punctuated with all-weather

*The Voyageur*. Photograph by Alec Soth. Image used with permission. View Soth’s photography project *Niagara*

lawn-chairs out front.
‡‡Clouds ride past the pool,
‡‡‡faces of brick, the oil stains

on parking lot asphalt.
‡‡Did someone teach you
‡‡‡to park in a place like this,

between two white parallel
‡‡lines stretched like arms
‡‡‡saying, Come here? In the grass

behind the dumpster you lay
‡‡your head on his pale, shirtless
‡‡‡chest. On his skin, warm as

melted butter. It is the blue hour,
‡‡floating on quiet water, after
‡‡‡the sun sets, before it gets dark.

Love on damp pavement. Love
‡‡with sanitized glasses wrapped
‡‡‡in paper. Love in the violent mist.

*Tricia and Curtis.* Photograph by Alec Soth. Image used with permission. View Soth’s photography project *Niagara*

In the velvet night. He kisses
‡‡the soles of your feet. O girl
‡‡‡in white. Be good and take care.

I haven’t fallen like that in a very long time.

Note: This poem is based on photographer Alec Soth’s photography project of the same name. Click here to view it.

Source: Indiana Review, vol. 32, issue 1 (summer 2010)

Also published in Meitner’s Copia, BOA Editions, 2014

Visit Erika Meitner ‘s website

Erika Meitner is the author of five books of poems, including Ideal Cities (HarperCollins,
2010), which was a 2009 National Poetry series winner; Copia (BOA Editions, 2014); and
Holy Moly Carry Me (BOA Editions, 2018), which won the 2018 National Jewish Book
Award in Poetry, and was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award. Her sixth
book of poems, Useful Junk, is forthcoming from BOA Editions in 2022. Meitner’s poems
have been anthologized widely, and have appeared in publications including Best
American Poetry, Ploughshares, Virginia Quarterly Review, The New York Times
Magazine, The New Republic, and Tin House. Other honors include fellowships from
MacDowell, the Wisconsin Institute for Creative Writing, the Virginia Center for the
Creative Arts, the Hermitage Artist Retreat, and Blue Mountain Center. She was also the
2015 US-UK Fulbright Distinguished Scholar in Creative Writing at the Seamus Heaney
Centre for Poetry at Queen’s University Belfast. Meitner is currently a professor of English
at Virginia Tech.

Niagara Falls by William McClure

Niagara! What memories you evoke,
A mecca for all travel-folder folk;
The honeymooners’ lure, and lovers’ pride
Whose name is lauded o’er the countryside.

Here comes the tired and jaded business man
Hot from convention halls; now spick and span;
The busy housewife, proud of all her brood
And cheerful hubby, carrying their food,
The picnic lunch in famed Victoria Park,
Where they, as lovers, often sat at dark.
Now, staid and sober, middle-aged and fat,
They reminisce of other days, and that
First visit to the Falls, where all around
The matrimonial tendency they found.
The younger generation they now scan
And smile to see them follow the same plan.

There, tired old granny, taken for a ride;
Her face aglow with pleasure, like a bride,
Renews again her dreams of former days
When everything seemed rosy in a haze.
The rich, the poor, the famous from all lands
All gather round the work of nature’s hands
To view the famous cascade, glittering bright,
Which of itself provides the power for light.
The roaring torrent as it thunders o’er
And deafens nearby tourists with its roar
Casts a magnetic spell on all around
As thunderous rumbles shake the quivering ground.

But nature works her will remorselessly,
And changes in our time we all can see;
Yet still the cry goes up when pleasure palls,
That come what may, “We MUST go to the Falls.”

Source: Toronto Daily Star, March 31, 1939

According to a column by J.V. McAres in the Globe & Mail, April 14, 1951, McClure wrote more than a thousand poems published in various Canadian newspapers.

Obituary of William McClure, Welland Tribune, November 19, 1955

Flying Over Niagara Falls by Alex Jacobs and SAP by Janet Marie Rogers

Scroll down or click here to see SAP by Janet Marie Rogers

FLYING OVER NIAGARA FALLS, by Alex Jacobs
for Janet Marie

I have never been so consumed, so affected, so moved
so physically adored, adorned even
so worn like hat, a tight fitting hat,
so consumed, so consummated
we are flying, actually airborne…
making love above Niagara Falls
& it is like flying, boarding the aircraft
through a familiar structure, a familiar ritual
down a tunnel, approaching the light
you take in the periphery
you buckle in and read the safety manual
what to do in an emergency
you read whatever’s available, magazines about
Mayan temples, Calcutta spices
Grateful Dead sticker on a rock & roll wine
we are rolling, rolling, rolling
30 40 50 70 100 MPH
you hold on, there’s a bump
we all shift, squeaks, tugs
hidden music, chatter
you favour one side,
there’s a light, bright
and then gravity release
some kind of group sigh
shimmers through the passengers

we are surrounded by air on all sides

yoga masters in flight
hovering, bouncing
anti-gravity vibratory
near hallucinogenic, visions, voices
we could theoretically disappear
vibrating into
another dimension
another consciousness

This is where the Thunderers live
Where the Maid is in the Mist
Where Jigonsaseh (mother of Nations)
Gave birth to her village called Peace-town
Where she gave birth to clans and nations

Where women went over Niagara Falls
Announcing the new millennium
Only later did men attempt the free fall
In much sturdier, better designed craft
Safe, greedy, cowards
Asking for money… to fly

This is where Falling Woman came to earth
Where Flint & Sapling were born
Where I was reborn, was crucified,
Died and was reburied
Only to resurrect again and again and again
She is Flying Woman
She is Star Woman

She is Bear Woman
She is Medicine Woman
She is Healing Woman

A Turtle clan man can be a warrior too
Not just a farmer or an artist or a singer
He waits and waits
Focusing ninja movements
Using the opponents force to counter
Taking many blows to his shell
Once he grabs and bites you can not dislodge him
Until the sun sets…
The only time a turtle makes noise
Is when he mates or dies

We are at the edge of thunder
We are white light plasma
We become actually lightning
People hear us as thunder
See us as lightning
This is where the Thunderers live
In caves under Niagara Falls
Powerful ancient voices
Rumble like earthquakes, tremors,
Rock slides crashing into whirlpools

What would I do with you
Once I have you
I need to train you

You need repetition
Sun moon dark rain
Just like Niagara Falls
We are high up
Thousands of miles to the west
Laying among rain, drizzle, clouds
High up among Vancouver canyons
Sun moon mist rain
Where we can pause
Breath absorb each other
Pile up chaos in theory
Shine glisten vibrate
And make waves
Make waves all around us
And fly actually airborne
Then release and flow and surge
Sun Rain Mist Full Moon
What would you do with me
Once you have me

Santa Fe, March 2012
Vancouver, February 2013

SAP by Janet Marie Rogers

He served me
Tree sap
In a shot
Glass
I stretched
My neck
To get
Every
Drop

He served me
Tree sap

In a shot
Glass
I stretched
My neck
To get
Every
drop

Source: The authors, 2021. First published on the Indian Country Today blog on February 14, 2014

Alex Jacobs’ website Alex Jacobs: Native American Art, Poetry & Culture, Blog & Audio

About Janet Marie Rogers

Again to the Falls by Lynne Bronstein

I visited Niagara Falls only once. I was sixteen
And with my family. The Customs Man
Came to know us after a few days.
But every time we crossed the bridge,
He asked us “Where were you born?”
Because he had to.
I spent much time on the Canadian side
Because it was exciting to be in another country.
I watched the trains that ran through the center of town.
Longest trains I’d ever seen, Canadian railroad.
I saw the bell tower where an unfaithful blonde
Was strangled by her husband in the movie Niagara.
But the Falls? The three waterfalls,
Demonstrating the full force of water at top speed—
All I did was look at them.
My parents had been under them.
It had once been the fashion
For honeymooners to travel
To the Falls. For the maximum
In daring romance, they’d don clumsy raincoats
And clunky boots
And ride the boat Maid of the Mist
As it passed beneath the muscular shower,
Getting each marriage off
To a drenching start.
As if to say: “We are not wed
Until we’ve been soaked
And cleansed
In the spray of the Falls.”

I wonder if this magic might work in reverse.
If I were to go to Niagara now
And stand beneath the Falls
And let the water change me,
Make me ready
To receive
Love that streams
Like non-stop water.
It is not a question of where I was born
But rather a question of where I will revive.
Under the rainbow arc of water
Where love and courage have been tested
And children are conceived.
No age is too late for a honeymoon.
To stand beneath the Falls
Is an item on my list.

Lynne Bronstein is a poet, a journalist, a fiction writer, a songwriter, and a playwright. She has been published in magazines ranging from Chiron Review, Spectrum, and Lummox, to Playgirl and the newsletter of the U.S. Census Bureau. Bronstein has published five books of poetry, including her latest, Nasty Girls from Four Feathers Publishing. Her first crime story was published in 2017 in the anthology LAst Resort. Her adaptation of Shakespeare’s As You Like It was performed at two LA libraries. Her story “The Magic Candles” was performed on National Public Radio. She’s been nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize and four times for the Best of the Net awards.

Pink Daiquiris by Josie Di Sciascio-Andrews

You picked me up that morning,
Forty years ago, to take me to Niagara Falls
In your second-hand red Fiat.
I remember it was stick-shift.
On the QEW from our town
To the Falls, an excitement
I had never nor ever felt again.
By chance we dressed alike:
White shirts and jeans.
My curls. Your curls.
My ecru espadrilles
Your camel desert boots.
We were the colours of lake
And sky. Sand and stones.
Passersby smiled at us
Recognizing something
Of themselves perhaps -as in a garden.
Blooms returning year after year
Their faces, always the same.
I will remember us like that too, forever.
Our younger selves so new, blooming.
Excitedly speeding towards the Falls
Unaware of why or the implications
Of it all, our joy shimmering, fleeting.

Josie Di Sciascio-Andrews is a poet and the host & coordinator of the Oakville Literary Cafe Series. Her new collection, Sunrise Over Lake Ontario, was published in 2019. Her previous poetry publications include: Sea Glass, The Whispers of Stones, The Red Accordion, Letters from the Singularity and A Jar of Fireflies. Josie’s poetry has been shortlisted for the Malahat Review’s Open Season Award, Descant’s Winston Collins Prize and The Canada Literary Review ’s Summer Poetry Competition, The Eden Mills Festival Literary Contest and the Henry Drummond Poetry Prize. Josie Di Sciascio-Andrews’ poetry has won first place in Arborealis Anthology Contest and in Big Pond Rumours Literary E-Zine.

Visit Josie Di Sciascio-Andrews’ web page

Tag: Romance

Niagara by Erika Meitner

Like this:

Niagara Falls by William McClure

Like this:

Flying Over Niagara Falls by Alex Jacobs and SAP by Janet Marie Rogers

SAP by Janet Marie Rogers

Like this:

Again to the Falls by Lynne Bronstein

Like this:

Pink Daiquiris by Josie Di Sciascio-Andrews

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

SAP by Janet Marie Rogers

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this: