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2013 Birthday Poem

July 2, 2013

My lovers are in the past, pulled out with the Tide
the waters returning to China or beyond —
the sushi stink of seaweed, the gulls’ dinners
tattered line & sodden planks rotting on the shore.

Don’t worry, the Tide will return, you say.

But I am always someplace else at High Tide —
asleep, or sorting numbers in someone’s office
pining for the sweet barista where I read & scribble
or walking the beach & just don’t notice how
the Tide cools, washes my weary feet.


From → Clea, Poems

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