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April 18, 2001

untitled

surprise this is how it begins
you lick the ice off
of the stone head of the well
surmise this is one of those years
a gift you hope for
but you never can tell
gather your will by the roadside up
and draw out your hunches, your hopes, and your luck

I drive out to the edge of the bay
and watch the men drag
their john boats cross the mud
stoop shouldered, pit against the freeze
they are the blessed
for the salt hand that they love
I watched an angry ocean spit
at the thought of four men making tame of it

My mother, weaned on war,
she hides sugar
in sacks beneath the floor
she knows no need, still she can't deny
that fear runs like a thread through her life
I watched an old woman bend at the hip
for the taste of sweet tea on her red stained lips

Posted by bethamsel at 4:17 PM