The Last Night at the Ocean

We waited many long nights since February
to feel the pulse of the ocean in our truest bodies;

the energy that conquers all time
and clears the mildew and rust
of sitting still for too long.

We happily waited through the snow and constant ice of New England
to nearly burn our feet bronze on the sand on a day just like today.

The color of our skin is no longer the white of enamel.
Our shoulders might even be caramelized brown as butter and sugar
and smooth as a polished stone near this sandy shore.

Tonight, on the last night at the ocean, we begin to pack ourselves up
for the long trip back to the life of mowing grass, pulling weeds,
piles of laundry, electric bills, writing daily rhymes,
and making the bed
as if order can be gathered
in the cool comfort of sheets.

On this last night at the edge of the salty water in Saco
we listen to explosions off shore of the boardwalk
and feel the echos of the independence we feel
each time we come to rest here.

We know here, if no place else,
we are free for a little while.

Stop Waiting in Silence

The moon is nearly full
in the corral of all the sky we can see
from the small place on the shore,
our eyes starving to embark on a voyage
as concise as the sailors
who plot the points of each day
by the stars and ancient demolished suns
who lost their way
before time began in these waters.

I will plunge into the ocean anyway.
My fear is more than anyone could expect to change.
If the trembling is mixed with the waves,
perhaps we can pretend
all is not lost in the cold saltiness.

We will sing sustaining songs into the company of the darkness
and stop waiting in silence for twilight
to awaken us all.

What Could be Better?

At the blue precipice of all this morning,
light checking her passport with some minor qualms
about the ladder that must be climbed to really shine,

we verify
that all the coins
in this short day
will not be enough
to finance the glaring division
between this moment
and the darkness

engineered to quiet the mind
and soothe the magnificent
aching of the soul
at the recognition
of forever.

The truth of it all
bubbles just under the surface
of the skin of the body
so that you have stopped hoping
to return as something
better.