Sunday, February 21, 2010

Spring Tide

Sulfur mustard grass,
a chorus line across the shore
brilliance going through me.

I jumped from my car,
tore a bunch by its bare roots,
dipped grass in cold salt water

stinging my nostrils
as waves crowned me
with a splinter of diamonds.

And so it happened.
I stopped worrying about turning
into a neighbor's cul de sac,

Forgot about arriving on time
or if I'd selected a good bottle
for the table.

All that mattered as I huddled
inside the water's tongue
was the taste of thunder.

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