Thursday, November 15, 2012

at easter island (a poem by me)

photo courtesy 3191

at easter island

at easter island where the fur of the sandpiper moves in segments
to the wind off the coast of the jetti 
and the docks creak against the bulkheads, supple
from soaking and dried from the salt
I heard you laughing like a child
eyes flickering like sunlight dancing on the surface
of the blueberry water. 

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