[BIO]: Michael received an MFA in Creative Writing from CUNY – Queens College and is a father of three.
Sand’s Point Preserve
We often visited Long Island’s Gold Coast,
castles in the backdrop of family photographs,
ages of decadence now a shell of memory.
Sand’s Point Preserve, the fantasy of ownership –
we picnicked on the rocks once owned
by millionaires, and grass upon which
croquet mallets made balls find their flippant purpose,
passing through a ring of emptiness.
My wife at the time bought designer clothes from Boston,
fantasized deeply about the castle’s gray stone,
steep turrets and bastions overlooking the rocky shore
to Connecticut, and wondered
how she married into a world of the unattainable.
We furtively wandered to the windows
of one particular castle, saw our breath
form clouds of envy on the glass,
deciphered a carousel in the ballroom,
or rather horses that had once pranced to the rush
of Stock Market figures and ticker tape,
a decade roaring its way toward a crash.
Though literary, they did not move,
decaying under beams of dust light
without the benefit of burlap or canvas,
misused cavalry of the Gatsby generation,
surviving wars, advancing civilization.
And who were we in this portrait?
Decadence of our own, living beyond our means,
our daughters played in fields of rich green,
superficial, spontaneous, biting off more carefree days
than summer can afford,
missing all the signs of the impending storm.