An old woman who had never seen the sea
cherished a spotted shell.
At night, when the world was shadowed and quiet,
she would cradle it against her ear
and sway to the whispering surf.
Her mind floated, aloft
on warm waters
the color of topaz.
An old woman who had never seen the sea
cherished a spotted shell.
At night, when the world was shadowed and quiet,
she would cradle it against her ear
and sway to the whispering surf.
Her mind floated, aloft
on warm waters
the color of topaz.
stars above
a still, gray sea
who combs her faded hair
and old lovers
from her thoughts
desolate shores slip
sand beneath toes
as the fisherman’s wife
digs for clams
tattered sails leave me
shipwrecked
in a sea I once roamed
A small tugboat felt itself
lesser than the great ships
that crossed the channel.
It never left the shore
although, like all others,
it was created seaworthy.
sycophantic yes-men
bob their heads
in nervous
oceanic time
ribbons like ink
pink and deadly
jellyfish
cars through
pools of rainwater
recall to mind, tides
against a dinghy
sheer cliffs eroded
by a seemingly calm sea
stand testament
to its caprice
Rosy goes the dawn
Upon the updrafts
seagulls wake and call
And I alone, against the break
Hold tight against
a coming squall