MARJORIE STAMM ROSENFELD
FROM MY OCEAN COAST TO HERS
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For Susan, 1946-1999 Where Torrey Pines drift eastward –spineless against the wet wind's pounding, I open yesterday's paper, leaf through stale news, stare down at the scripting of water. Below, children are building a castle. Praise to all houses indestructible until the tide. I wanted to bring honey to her house. I would have found her before she left – infused each parapet, each turn with amber sweetness, full of the laughter of children. I wanted to hold her, inhale the salt of her skin, wound in coils of wind with her so close I might print her flesh on mine like pages of a good book I could keep, pick up later, reread any time. Nearer than where the sun roils the water, the sky is fading. White birds wheel home. In this damp air, no pages last. All things come to a conclusion: too dark to read now. |
