Selected Poems
Again
The last time we saw each other
was a late grey day last summer
at the shore, just before a storm.
We met a few minutes. Her friends
had fanned out near stone breakers
and some flew kites over angry waves.
Both of us were far from home.
She curled up, cold in the sand.
Her hair fought with the wind.
She was from a sunburnt part of the Southwest
and the first she'd seen any ocean, first hand.
She palmed a dozen shells and held kite strings.
Each kite, a bird, bore a formal name and royal title
unfurled wings and trailed its' tail in primary colors
matched the flock gathered in her fetish necklace.
Expected rain arrived and our string snapped
with the lightning. We had scattered, until now.
was a late grey day last summer
at the shore, just before a storm.
We met a few minutes. Her friends
had fanned out near stone breakers
and some flew kites over angry waves.
Both of us were far from home.
She curled up, cold in the sand.
Her hair fought with the wind.
She was from a sunburnt part of the Southwest
and the first she'd seen any ocean, first hand.
She palmed a dozen shells and held kite strings.
Each kite, a bird, bore a formal name and royal title
unfurled wings and trailed its' tail in primary colors
matched the flock gathered in her fetish necklace.
Expected rain arrived and our string snapped
with the lightning. We had scattered, until now.
