I first loved you by the sea.

steel cold comfort
then, and now-
orange grainy mixed black sand
soft-coarse and quick through the fingers.
your hair,

my memory
of your fingers in my hair;
the wind.
the memory of our hands entwined
leaves my hand warm.
the memory of your voice, your song;
the surf.

debris:
muscles, carnations, charcoal
a perfect bouquet
remainders.
voodoo statuette of oscar tarred and blackened, cracked.
a horseshoe crab,
the cry of a gull
not mourning
expectation?

what are your memories of the sea?
i feel you beside me silent yet warm;
i feel your soul in the comfort there
beneath the Cyclone sentinel
and the skeletons of happy play.

a smooth tiger stone-
your spirit, our fire
a song
devotion
hands clasped
(your hands clasped over mine)

And I release your stone to Coney Island and the sea.


Melanie Orpen, OOORP@aol.com