Sea Glass

 

 

Knob kneed and pale,
I glow
before the waves with toes painted green

like the world through a piece of sea glass, my vision hazed and

calm. Your thumb presses my fingers

like the tactile press of a keyboard's

steps towards the fully formed sentences

I can't quite seem to finish. The storm on the horizon

is electrifying. It drowns out my breath with each rumble

echoing over the waves and we know we should leave,

move to safety,

but the water is the most intense

shade of you.

 

 

 

 

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Starward's picture

I like the way the poem

I like the way the poem begins with the speaker's self-description (toes painted green is a delectable detail), then widens the focus to the storm and its effects, and then narrows the focus again to the speaker's companion---on whose presence the poem concludes, giving the companion, in a sense, the last word.  This is a great strategy!


Starward

[ * /+/ ^ ]