Sailor and Siren
Today a beach remembers herself at low tide—
then to open up a world of surprises,
the weathered woman walks down shells and brine,
and we make boats and birds with deepest flowers—
parting waves in the tossing harbor
like scissors whooshing through.
her rhesus monkey Noah, in purple fez
and embroidered vest, takes
a coin into the cup,
and she is unkempt and cared less for,
but the sheets are blanched as chicken bones.
boy. you love her because she will never judge
you for coming here.
what can she say to you about anything?
she thinks,
he paid to be here—
to make boats and birds in black lily showers,
and the beach disappears in an hour—
