Monday, August 15, 2011

to the island

i dreamt you found me standing on the shore
pulling out small parts of myself
and forcing them on a page.
i walked along the sandbar toward the little island
freed by low tide, flanked by seaweed,
and picked up rocks wet with salt
like ancient tears petrified on the surface.
once i reached the island i tried to find flat spots to steady my feet
the granite treacherous and unforgiving. i hesitated, tossing words around—
sharp, pointed, vulnerable things—like these prehistoric nuggets
with glacial edges that pierced me
as my fingers struggled to grasp them.
perpetrators, instigators, violators, i am relieved to be rid of them.
but you. are you there? i called. there was no answer.
time and distance got in the way. that's how i lost you—
but did i ever really find you among snippets and re-worked sentences?
you slipped away rolling over and over in the depths
on your side of the ocean. i looked down in the surf
time-weary rocks tumbled and bashed themselves,
ageless segments of the surging swell
glistening sleek and smooth—
i picked one up
and skimmed it
lightly along my cheek.

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