Summer 1998 • Vol. XX No. 3/4 PoetryJuly 1, 1998 |

Lights from a Pier

From here, I can see many things at night Sitting out long enough If I am willing to. I can see all the way to heaven And how indistinguishable it is From the sea and its darkness Except as the whitewash rubs A little of it away. I can see lights from the pier Where the sinks are, for cleaning fish, And a few ropes for tethering crab-traps, Where I stood earlier As the high-pitched children kicked At the casual waves, and I can still see The long white sleep-blown hair of the old As they walked below me. Merest of light on a sheen, Just when I think there is nothing Beyond you, from behind me I hear a sound Something like my love brushing her hair She washed the sea from Only minutes earlier, The sea winds whipping a bit, Helping to dry and make it shine.

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From here, I can see many things at night Sitting out long enough If I am willing to. I can see all the way to heaven And how indistinguishable it […]

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