Pandemonium
       

He could not live beside the sea,
it made him nervous.
What kind of man was this?
The sea's sustenance made her

vulnerable, turned even broken soda glass
into something exquisite, The birds
worked overtime, an awesome show,
their pointed plunge and delicate withdrawal.

Walking the beach at dusk
she was never alone but lost in some future
she could practically feel
through the gray indistinguishable fold of elements.

And in the distance an oval luminance
of pain & sweetness & metallic dying.
Some poor fish carried away
in the beak of a lone bird, flying.

Tweet

Copyright © 2012 Alison Woods All rights reserved
from New Forest
Finishing Line Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission