Selected Poems
A Swim with Finn MacCool
Old ones said jetties are broken roads leading
right into an angry sea and eventually, nowhere.
Fear kept us off. A devil's push could drown us.
My grandfather said jetties are stony arms, hope
left by giants, a rescue causeway for lost swimmers.
He admitted, he used them a time or two himself.
Imagine how silly you and I are
we sit still in the afternoon sand
when you and I count how long
held our breath, long and longer.
We grip noses, close our eyes
believe we could stroll a road
You and I cross an ocean floor
to return where we came from.
Giants and sunsets
would always save us.
right into an angry sea and eventually, nowhere.
Fear kept us off. A devil's push could drown us.
My grandfather said jetties are stony arms, hope
left by giants, a rescue causeway for lost swimmers.
He admitted, he used them a time or two himself.
Imagine how silly you and I are
we sit still in the afternoon sand
when you and I count how long
held our breath, long and longer.
We grip noses, close our eyes
believe we could stroll a road
You and I cross an ocean floor
to return where we came from.
Giants and sunsets
would always save us.
