Saturday, May 24, 2008

winter oceans

World of grey sky
horizon right at my feet, right here
not off in some middle distance.

Cold wants to pull me in, foam swirls,
up my pants to ankles, knees
salt heavy, pulling me down.

I see you, buckets and molds around you
piling the wet sand; a fortress, keeping you safe
from the draw of the sea

I do not care. It pulls me,
climbs higher, knees thighs waist
white caps over my head.

Too cold to blink, blood thick and slow,
floating in the silent
not thinking, too cold to think.

Roar of silence fills me,
flesh turned brittle, briny,
hands of the ocean clasping mine

1 comment:

candoor said...

this puts me on a beach
where i wrote about bugs
so many years ago

jones beach,
where so much bliss was passed
hand to hand
mouth to mouth,
or was it Manhattan
just past the grounds of Kingsborough
where i first learned
how not to learn

thank you for the journey through my mind.