National Poetry Month #14

Turning Away from The Ocean

 

What exhilarates you on this strand of beach,

This little stripe into the sea? Why all the

 

Dancing, the kick-splits off the jetties,

Swirl-skirt lifts to the wind and sky?

 

Far out, a crate slips from the cargo net and

Drifts in splendid isolation. The loose thing

Bobs, out and out, at sea. And here,

 

Dark sand and clam beds haunt the knoll.

A blood-red house stands along the cove.

 

Eagles slip in the hot wind; the tide comes in

And floats your pockets. Let’s call this day

A chip of the mind. At the edge of something

 

Amidst the wants and terrible needs,

You dance on the strand, one piece at a time.

National Poetry Month #13

For the Wire Mother

Little terrycloth lamb

Spondee girl

Raised on ribs