Joanna M. Weston: Tide-Line, The Wraith
TIDE-LINE
an arbutus tree leans
its long arch
over the sombre march of water
up and down the beach
breaking shells
wearing on rock
lapping my bare feet
with the insistence
of a heart-beat
through half-closed eyes
I watch waves leave
sea lettuce, kelp
and human debris
strewn like bodies after battle
scabs sealed by sun and hours
while the water
moves up and back
in continual chase
of tossed seaweed
and forgotten names
THE WRAITH
dips its head
pecks
takes a fold
of skin
and pulls
shakes me
into awareness
of pain
of being alive
then lets go
