The Tidal Zone

A memory of my last night standing in the salty spray of the Pacific before leaving for six months.

waves become kisses lipping at
the smooth skin of the sand gentle
at first rougher then rougher
until the surface breaks water
crests over the spray
knocks pebbles loose like little
teeth the tidal zone breaks open
rocks become breakers for the
waves

feet become anchors weighing down
loose thoughts suddenly still as
the body stills standing in water still
shifting with the moon a body
in its own right violent with the
night blue with evening melancholy white
with foam and bright with incandescnt
light

M.
August 2017

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