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Spilling into the Pacific
by Alison McKenzieI am where I belong,
No more, no less;
It is here that my journey
Pointed
Little edgy droplets hitting
The sleeping blackberry vines
And mossy roof tops
The ships sit, posy-rowed
Just inside the throat
Of the Pacific,
The muted sea lions
Winter on the slimy docks.
And all I know,
All I really know is that
This water sings
Well within the keys of my range –
Rocks me to dreaming,
Then lays me gently back
In the arms of
Reality’s best attempt to do right by me.
2012 hovers just out of reach.
I can feel it breathing backwards,
Hungry,
Threatening to eat these words
And all who write them
In one huge, cosmic bite.
But I am not tomorrow’s meal,
And today I am laughing.
01/09/2011 Author's Note: The same way the earth spoke to me in The Dalles, the water speaks to me here. Largely inspired by a recent journal post of Tracey Paradiso and my new home on the Oregon coast!
Posted on 01/09/2011
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Paganini Jones on 01/10/11 at 10:05 AM Ah I love the sea- this poem reminds me ever so slightly of Sylvia Plath's Blackberries, and of my favourite seaside town where I too would live if I were able.
And I love the ending - tight, spot on writing
"I am not tomorrow’s meal,
And today I am laughing." |
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