Original Poetry: Saugatuck, Michigan

In stuttered movements,
      my stiff feet stretch
and flex in the West Shore sands
      as I make my way
from the dunes, sheathed
      in marm grass and cottonwoods,
to the tide line’s shell crust.
      Each step
to the bulkhead pretends
      to be limber –
sprier.

I pause here,
      propped on two blocks
of the breakwater wall.
      This vantage confirms
the unending mosaic
      of gull prints layering the empty
beach. Graffiti is daubed
      across one stone asserting,
The nice thing
      about telling the truth—
        you don’t have to remember
      what you said.

Hundreds of lines, mumbled
      as I sleep, have washed away.

I abandon
      my stony perch.
Ahead lies a gull
      brown-flecked in youth
and still
      in death. Supine,
with flawless plumage.
      Not a feather ruffled.
Her neck craned
      almost comfortably.
 
 
 
[This poem was published by The Eunoia Review in April 2015.]
 
 
[Check out other original poems here.]

Advertisements

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