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In Gulf

As you toddle like a buoy,
greedy girls scoop shells by the bucketful
and I lie on the sand, blending in.
The cicadas scream in the moss-dripping trees
as Winter clatters in her pool.
Tomorrow the black will ink everything out.
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Gift for David

It may weigh less than a pound
and remain in a locked chest,
but put your ear to it,
it is there
Do with it what you will
for it is yours.
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The Letter

Her voice slid into my ear;
she wished that I would write her
to give her news from home.
I sat, armed with pad and pen.
The stark sheet glared,
a beacon waiting to be lit.

The events of the year bobbed through my head,
fat balloons with neat strings
waiting to be released.
Yet I, always brimming with words,
could not bear to set down
even the most insignificant happenings.

She had no right to them.
She should have been here,
writing to friends afar,
sending love from home.
She should not wander away
and then wonder what's become of me.

Folding the naked sheet,
I slid it into the envelope
and sent it first class to the new world.
A world without me.

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