Land-locked Ohio poet Tess Kincaid imagines a sea trip maybe from Willow Manor ... losing her baggage along the way ...
I contemplate waves,
skip stones in your eyes,
wade through shallow parts.
There is no need for old north boats,
since we have uncovered
our own safe passage.
Baggage drowns in the current;
a selkie wears my wedding veil,
wonders at so many shoes.
Spoon the rest of the journey;
give in to the tug of gravity,
the low ache that drops like stone.
A stormy berth is best, even though
you are too civilized for thunder.
Tess Kincaid: Cross the Bridge poets pen | |
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| People & Blogs | Upload TimePublished on 17 Aug 2013 |
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