February 15

comments 2
Uncategorized

Tableau: fake flowers
in an enameled clay vase,

the kind with birds
and bird-like lines–

yesterday’s coffee
rewarmed, the bitterness

doused in lait
partiellement écrémé–

bright horns gild
the otherwise silence,

some neighbor listening
softly to Ring of Fire–

beyond, the water.
Yesterday we watched

the tide sweep out,
skookumchuch slipping

through fingers
of land, with vortexes

and contrary eddies,
spoken, taken aback, deadly–

orange urchins, broken
like eggshells, littered

the rocks, exposed
and lit upon by

watchful gulls.
We stood at the edge

and guessed at depth
and a light rain fell,

is falling now, although
it’s difficult to say–

actions muddled by shades
of gray, is it fog, or mist

that settles
on the pines? I don’t

particularly care
to make a distinction–

Advertisements

2 Comments

  1. This poem is texturally edible. I liked reading this, what a thrill to find a three upward accents on the same letter, in one word: écrémé. *shivers*. Oooh. Skookumchuch. ~ P ~

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s