Friday, July 31, 2009

lights fall from the old man of the sea

we fight until I am exhausted
trying to hold a trickling thing of sand
a scintilla that drains back into the beach

a shock of trees
released by strong winds
he is a fish, a slither
an eel that flits away
then has me pinned

he is all around he clenches me tight shoves my face
towards his
buried down there
beneath our grinding feet
mine is down there too
iron-eyed our faces stare it out underground
through lock and tremor

as two prayers
to a god divided

who is it the tide sweeps in
and sucks out?

who becomes the tide will prevail
will not win

he is a lion he is my mother he is songbirds falling
as black snow in early evening my fingers are wings are poems
within his smoke we each fold back to embrace
count five sudden things of magic
and stamp and hold tight

lion mother phantom
my lost brother
whistles hard there in the waves

old father in the fallen leaves offshore

we walk into the sea
each carrying the other
light as children who cannot return
rise only as the tide
sends up her drowned lanterns

each with a heart of red sand
catching, holding

our breath beyond reach

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