THESE TIRED SEA SONGS
Languid, I have waited all winter,
The sea beyond these windows
In suspended animation;
Her near, another sleeping seasons.
Home, home again and grinning, bearing
The ice between all the skinny boys
And girls we used to be.
She tells herself lies and picks lilies below
Humdrum katydids atop the trees
Holding their buds still hostage;
Sun’s antidote to autumn waiting to be suckled.
All of us, her, she who isn’t here,
Tired within our skin, longing
To be lapped by water no longer asleep.
at YAREAH MAGAZINE
at JAMES GOERTEL