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The Old Arlington Hotel
by David Hill
Before me,
the mighty Atlantic night
crashes Nags Head’s shore;
Cruuusssh…, Cruuusssh…
The Enormity,
of blackness
and odor from
every element of life and death
that roils in sea.
My size 10’s softly pad
dry planks.
You know that feeling
through skin and teeth,
no splinters, please.
And I am so tiny and so thirsty,
but how is it I am safe
and that all of this somehow,
somehow hangs together?
How do I explain
this bone deep thrill?
This spinal chill.
In moon glow,
a fiddler crab scurries
across sand,
then suddenly drops
down a hole.
Such mystery,
I mean why
presume superiority?
Because I drink Coke?
And the machine glows
eerie red inside its shed,
Then a moth flies between
as I slip coins in the slot
and my can rumbles and drops,
now wet cold in my palm,
and in some way I can not explain,
I emerged from The Enormity
to safely, softly pad dry planks
back to our broke-down hotel.
09/01/2010 Author's Note: in my mind I'm goin' to Carolina...
Posted on 09/01/2010
Copyright © 2026 David Hill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 09/02/10 at 03:05 AM You've created a great atmosphere here - I liked the use of the word Enormity to refer to the Sea, the crab's activity, the trek to the Coke machine as a vehicle to add perspective to the human size. Thanks for this. |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 09/02/10 at 10:38 AM ...Kristina is so right-on!, david. a swusshing and swishing night of roiling--love that word. |
| Posted by Carolyn Coville on 09/07/10 at 04:56 AM Oh, this is so vivid! I can definitely feel the wood on my feet and smell the salt in the air...and I love the details of the crab and the moth. Awesome write. |
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