by Virginia Laurie

It was half of a full moon and

“blood” red (orange-red), but

I didn’t notice it at first. I was

On the balcony, listening to

Waves I could not see (a moving

Darkness that felt like Death)

 

And to my left there was a red

Half-circle in the sky, and I thought

How strange it was for that parasail

To be so close to the shore, how

You cannot parasail at night, how

The parasail was perfectly still.

 

I Still hadn’t realized until I dragged

A chair over and my laptop and

Began writing another poem. I guess

Writing does help make connections.

 

Like now,

all I can think about is the

Living inky swell in front of me, an

Impenetrable being without eyes or

A body’s edge, pushing the dune grass

Beneath my bare feet, its hot breath,

 

Of course, the hot warm breath, like

A creature’s.

 

You ask, Will Death be A place, a feeling,

or a thing?

 

And I Say all three,

and the sound of

the Cicadas too.