Falassarna

for Gina

In the cradle of your palms lift the sea
That shimmers with the sun over our heads,
Dropping from your fingers, tracing your wrists,
And whisper to me, again, how these waters
Sculpt time, birth beaches, conjure whole worlds.
Pinch your nose and sink beneath the ageless sea
Into electric calm, where only you and light,
Where only you and refracted light linger.
Rise up and swell the sky, harvest the sun.
Of the hours I have left, it is these sands,
These thick sands, the shimmering sun, your hands…
Tell me, beneath this sky, on this far beach,
Your lips wet with the salt sea to my ear
How those long ago hours harbor our universes.

 

 

 





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Patrick Kanouse is a managing editor for Pearson Education, a technology publisher in Indianapolis. His poems have appeared in such places as Connecticut Review, The Evansville Review, Smartish Pace and Astropoetica, among others. You can read more of his work at www.patrickkanouse.com.