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Conch

by William F Dougherty

Churning in a spiral shell,
a monotone of waves
rolls from a mouth of opal
into memory’s caves
as it huskily repeats
in a low, convulsive breath
a distant, constant beat
gritty as truth.

Out of the beached whorl’s
salmon-tinted throat
and glossy mother-of-pearl
thrums a univocal note,
a steady systole,
as if the shell had found
in the early, hearsay sea
inaugural, salted sound.

05/24/2012

Posted on 05/24/2012
Copyright © 2020 William F Dougherty

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Joe Cramer on 05/29/12 at 02:26 AM

... excellent... welcome to Pathetic.....

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