Poyetry

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Turning

Turning

The tide’s at the full.
All the waters of the sea
In-rushed to fill the river
Brim full. A long pause, then,
As if a breath is taken deep,
And held: and then the turn,
The turn.

Facing toward the wide, deep sea,
Rushing away, the waters
Carry all, all away:
Foul night soil,
Effluvium of a thousand
Thousand heart-sick souls.
Carry away the past,
Leaving moon-shimmer sands behind.

9/14/08

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