Seasonal

Summer-long the gulls' old umbra cry
unraveled ease,
but certain waves went by, then by
the sky shook out the days.

The seabirds' hunger rose in rings,
flung rock-clams to their shatterings,
raked gullets full, the bone-bills scraped.

High noon: oceans of time escaped.

*

All winter, we slept benched together:
breakers, sleepdrunk children in a car
not conscious where they go.

We kneaded bread, kept out the weather,
while cold suspicions huddled by the door
like mice in snow.

*

In spring, the leaving bloomed—
oak leaf unfurled, a foot, resplendent
vigorous, aching to shake loose
but still dependent.

One morning moongreen loaves
rose into bones that rose to lift
our skin like sleeves,
our long Together's revenant.

*

Perennial Fall, come cool the cliffs,
bring quiet, sulfur, early dark.
Represent as you must: dusk, dying, ends
and row us into winter's water.

The body, wind-whipped, forms stiff peaks,
ice settles in the marrow bone.
At the chest, the live stone breaks against the beak,
beak breaks against stone.

PRINTE-MAILRECOMMEND...RSS

FacebookMySpace Mixx Digg Reddit del.icio.us Furl Ma.gnolia SphereStumbleUponCLOSE

SPONSORED CONTENT

• "Morphine"
  A weekly poem, read by the author.
  Mira Rosenthal | Dec. 15, 2009
• The Slate Poetry Podcast
  Your favorite poets read their work to you.
  Dec. 15, 2009
• "Dead Mother"
  A weekly poem, read by the author.
  Henri Cole | Dec. 8, 2009
• Search for more Poems articles
• Subscribe to the Poems RSS feed
• View our complete Poems archive