a strand

a strand

i need a coastline,
need to be able
to hullabaloo,
from the green land,
to where the lapping fold
of the water comes,
hurrying ashore
like a wild eyed refugee.

lingering,
dragged ankle-deep in
seaweed, brine
pickles toes, then
admired later,
by the tongues of a fire,
like a collection
of jarred embryos.

need to feel salted spray
against my city frown,
wet like the spit of the Gods.
as a wind, icier
than the stare of a
jettisoned lover,
unwinds and unpicks,
my constituent parts;
spread asunder
like driftwood.

sunrise gulls cry,
out along there
beyond the sea,
where a fringed
dawn mist, coils
wet and curling
like old rope,
heavy with the scent of breakers.

tumbled ashore,
this bounty of shells
worn and seaspun.
gathered as wishes
homeward carried.

later an undusting of sand,

positioned carefully
amidst the ordinary life;

continual promises of return.